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premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreasion  ou  d'illustration  at  en  terminant  par 
la  darniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

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derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  Ie 
cas:  la  symbola  -^  signif ie  "A  SUIVRE".  Ie 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 

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filmAs  i  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  Ie  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
d'imagea  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


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MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


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Take  a  satchel  and  the  ice- 
tongs  and  haul  it  away  I  " — Page  19. 


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DOWN   THE  LINE 


WITH 


JOHN    HENRY 


By   HUGH    McHUGH 

AUTHOK  or  "JOHN  BENSV" 


IM-ISTRATIO.NS    BV  AIcKEE    BARCl.A'C. 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO 

PUBLISHERS  ^,^;^^^ 


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COPYIIGHT.  I90t. 

By  G.  W.  DiLLiNGBAU  Ox 


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dealt  with  according  to  law. 


DOWN  THE  LINE 
WITH  JOHN  HENRY 


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Pete  and  the  Little  Man,  two  of  the  best 
ever — believe  me! 

John  Henry. 


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CONTENTS. 


John  Henry  at  the  Races,       -       -  13 

John  Henry  and  the  DRUMMi:as,  29 

John  Henry  in  Bohemia,  ...  47 

John  Henry  and  the  Hotel  Clerk,  63 

John  Henry  and  the  Benzine  Buggy,  77 

John  Henry  at  the  Musicale,        -  89 

John  Henry  Plays  Golf,          -       .  gQ 


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LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"Take  a  Satchel  and  the  Ice-Tonos 
AND  Haul  It  Away.** 

"  A  Bunch    of   Brisk    Boys  —  Believe 

Me  1 " 

"When  Clara  Jane  Arose,  She  Was  a 
Mass  of  Icicles  1" 

"We  Get  It  Good  and  Plenty  Every 
Day  ! "  said  Steve. 

"For   a  Chaser   She  Worj    One  or 
THOSE  Feather  Boas." 

"He  Gathered  the  Gourd  Up  Under 
His  Chin." 

"Jake    Invited    Her    to    Join    the 
Hunting  Party." 


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JOHN  HEXRY  AT  THE  RACES 


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JOHxN  HENRY  AT  THE  RACES. 

I   WAS  anxious  to  make  Clara  Jane 
think  that  she  was  all  the  money, 
so  I  boiled  out  a  few  plunks, 
trotted  over  to  the  trolley,  and  rushed 
her  to  the  race  track. 

I'm  a  dub  on  the  dope,  but  it  was 
my  play  to  be  a  Wise  Boy  among  the 
skates  on  this  particular  occasion,  and 
I  went  the  whole  distance. 

In  the  presence  of  my  lady  love  I 
knew  every  horse  that  ever  pulled  a 
harrow. 
Isn't  it  cruel  how  a  slob  will  cut  the 


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JOHN   HENRY 


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guy-ropes  and  go  up  in  the  air  just 
because  his  Baby  is  by  his  side? 
Me — to  the  mountain  tops ! 
Before  the  car  got  started  I  was  tell- 
ing her  how  Pittsburg  Phil  and  I  win 
$18,000  last  summer  on  a  fried  fish 
they  called  "  Benzine." 

Then  I  confided  to  her  the  fact  that 
I  doped  a  turtle  named  "  Pink  Toes  " 
to  win  the  next  day,  but  he  went  over 
the  fence  after  a  loose  bunch  of  grass 
and  I  lose  $23,680. 

She  wanted  to  know  what  I  meant 
by  dope,  and  I  told  her  it  generally 
meant  a  sour  dream,  but  she  didn't 
seem  to  grab. 

When  we  got  to  the  track  they  were 
bunching  the  bones  for  the  first  race, 
so  I  told  Clara  Jane  I  thought  I'd 
crawl  down  to  the  ring  and  plaster  two 


^-Wr^T---.  ^z^ 


AT  THE  RACES 


«5 


or  three  thousand  aiound  among  the 
needy. 

Two  or  three  thousand,  and  me  with 
nothing  but  a  five-spot  in  my  jeans  and 
the  return  ticket  money  in  that ! 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  bet  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Sure !"  I  said ;"  I've  got  a  pipe !  " 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  won't  smoke  it 
near  me.    I  hate  pipes !  "  she  said. 

"  All  right ;  I'll  take  my  pipe  down 
to  the  betting  ring  and  smoke  it 
there ! "  I  said,  and  we  parted  good 
friends. 

In  front  of  the  grand  stand  I  met 
Nash  Martinetti. 

He  was  holding  a  bunch  of  poppies 
and  he  picked  out  one  in  the  first  race 
and  handed  it  to  me. 


16 


JOHN    HENRY 


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"  A  skinch !  "  said  Nash.  "  Go  as 
far  as  you  like." 

Then  Xed  Rose  went  into  a  cata- 
leptic state  and  handed  me  the  win- 
ner—by a  block.  It  couldn't  go  wrong 
unless  it's  feet  fell  out. 

"  Here  you  are,  John  Henry,  the  real 
Pfetro!"  said  Ban  Roberts;  "play 
Pump  Handle  straight  and  place !  It's 
the  .-oad  to  wealth— believe  me!  All 
the  others  are  behind  the  hill !  " 

Every  Breezy  Boy  I  met  had  a  dif- 
ferent hunch  and  they  called  me  into 
the  wharf  and  unloaded. 

I  figured  it  out  that  if  I  had  bet 
$5  on  each  good  thing  they  gave  me 
I  would  have  lost  $400,000. 

Then  I  ducked  under,  sopped  up  a 
stein  of  root  beer  and  climbed  up 
again  to  the  hurricane  deck. 


•I 


Et3giat«!i 


AT   THE   RACES 


«7 


"  Did  you  bet  ? "  inquired  Clara 
Jane. 

"  Only  $730,"  I  said ;  "  A  mere  bag 
o'  shells." 

I  leave  a  call  for  7.30  every  morn- 
ing and  I  suppose  that's  il.c  reason  I 
was  so  swift  with  the  figures. 

"  ]\Iy !  what  a  lot  of  money !  "  said 
the  Fair  One ;  "  do  point  out  the  horse 
you  bet  on !  I  shall  be  awfully  inter- 
ested in  this  race !  " 

Carlo !  you're  a     id  dog — lie  down ! 

I  pointed  out  the  favorit"  as  the  one 
I  had  my  bundle  on,  and  explained  to 
Clara  Jane  that  the  only  way  it  could 
lose  was  for  some  sore-head  to  get 
out  and  turn  the  track  around. 

Sure  enough  the  favorite  galloped 
into  port  and  dropped  anchor  six  hours 
ahead  of  the  other  clams. 


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JOHN   HENRY 


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X  win  over  $2,200— conversation 
money— and  Bonnie  Brighteyes  was  in 
a  frenzy  of  delight. 

She  wanted  to  know  if  I  wasn't  go- 
ing to  be  awfully  careful  with  it  and 
save  it  up  for  a  rainy  day. 

I  told  her  yes,  but  I  expected  we'd 
have  a  storm  that  afternoon. 

I  had  a  nervous  chill  for  fear  she'd 
declare  herself  in  on  the  rake-off. 

But  she  didn't,  so  I  excused  myself 
and  backed  down  the  ladder  to  cash 


m. 


The  boys  were  all  out  in  the  inquest 
room  trying  to  find  out  what  killed 
the  dead  ones. 

Then  they  stopped  apologizing  to 
themselves  and  began  to  pick  things 
out  of  the  next  race  and  push  them 
up  their  sleeves. 


AT  THE  RACES 


«9 


I  ran  across  Harry  Maddy  and  he 
took  me  up  to  the  roof  with  a  line  of 
talk  about  a  horse  called  "Pretty  Boy" 
in  the  last  race. 

"  He'll  be  over  80  to  i  and  it's  a 
killing."  Harry  insisted.  "  Get  down 
to  the  bank  when  the  doors  open  and 
grab  all  you  can.  Take  a  satrhel  and 
the  ice-tongs  and  haul  it  away.'" 

I  was  beginning  to  be  impressec. 

"  Put  a  fiver  on  Pretty  Boy,"  Harry 
continued,  "  and  you'll  find  yourself 
dropping  over  in  the  Pierp  Morgan 
class  before  sun  down." 

"This  may  be  a  real  Alexander,"  I 
said  to  myself. 

"  Pretty  Boy  can  stop  in  the  stretch 
to  do  a  song  and  dance  and  still  win  by 
a  bunch  of  houses,"  Harry  informed 
*ne. 


20 


JOHN    HENRY 


2i' 

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I  began  to  think  hard. 

"  Don't  miss  it,"  said  Harry.  "  It's 
a  moral  that  if  you  play  him  you'll 
die  rich  and  disgraced,  like  our  friend 
Andy,  the  Hoot  Mon !  " 

When  I  got  back  to  the  stand  I  had 
a  preoccupied  air. 

The  five-spot  in  my  jeans  was  crawl- 
ing around  and  begging  for  a  change 
of  .  :ene. 

When  Clara  Jane  asked  me  how 
much  I  had  bet  on  the  race  just  about 
to  start  I  could  only  think  of  $900. 

When  she  wanted  to  know  which 
horse  I  pointed  my  finger  at  every  toad 
on  the  track  and  said  ''that  one  over 
there !  " 

It  won. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  race  I  was 
$19,2:8  to  the  good. 


AT  THE  RACES 


21 


Clara  Jane  had  it  down  in  black  and 
white  on  the  back  of  an  envelope  in 
ngures  that  couldn't  lie. 

She  said  she  was  very  proud  of  me, 
and  that's  where  my  finish  bowed  po- 
litely and  stood  waiting. 

She  told  me  that  it  was  really  very 
wrong-  to  bet  any  more  after  such  a 
run  of  luck,  and  made  me  promise 
that  I  wouldn't  wring  another  dollar 
from  the  trembling  hands  of  the  poor 
Bookmakers. 

I  promised,  but  she  didn't  notice 
that  I  had  my  fingers  crossed. 

I  simply  had  to  have  a  roll  to  flash 
on  the  way  home,  so  I  took  my  lonely 
V  and  went  out  into  the  Promised 
Land  after  the  nuggets  Maddy  had  put 
me  wise  to. 


22 


jOHN  HKNRY 


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"  It  will  be  just  like  getting  mone> 
from  Uncle  Peter,"  I  figured. 

"A  small  steak  from  Pretty  Boy," 
I  said  to  Wise  Samuel,  the  Book- 
maker; "  what's  doing?  " 

Wise  Samuel  gave  me  the  gay  look- 
over. 

"  Take  the  ferry  for  Sioux  Falls  1  '* 
he  said. 

**  Nix  on  the  smart  talk,  Sammy !  " 
I  said ;  "  Me  for  the  Pretty  Boy !  ~  )\v 
much?" 

"  A  bundle  for  a  bite — you're  on  a 
cold  plate !  "  whispered  Wise  Samuel, 
but  he  couldn't  throw  me. 

*'  I  don't  see  any  derricks  to  hoist 
the  price  with,"  I  tapped  him. 

"  Write  your  own  ticket,  then  you 
to  the  woods !  "  said  Sammy. 

In  a  minute  my  fiver  was  up  and  I 


AT  THE   RACES 


23 


was  on  the  card  to  win  $500  when  my 
cute  one  came  romping  home. 

I  went  back  to  Clara  Jane  satisfied 
that  in  a  few  minutes  I'd  have  a  roll 
big  enough  to  choke  the  tunnel. 

"  Not  having  any  money  on  this 
race  you  can  watch  it  without  the  least 
excitement,  can't  you?"  she  said. 

I  said  yes,  and  all  the  while  I  was 
scrapping  with  a  lump  in  my  throat 
the  size  of   ny  fist. 

When  the  horses  got  away  with 
Pretty  Boy  in  front  I  started  in  to 
stand  on  my  head,  but  changed  my 
mind  and  swallowed  half  the  pro- 
gram. 

Pretty  Boy  at  the  quarter !  Me  for 
Rector's  till  they  put  the  shutters  up! 

Pretty  Boy  at  the  half  I    Me  down 


24 


JOHN    HENRY 


■-'.    !' 


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to  Tiffany's  in  the  morning  dragging 
tiaras  away  in  a  dray  ! 

Pretty  Boy  at  the  three-quarter  pole  ! 
Me  doing  the  free  Hbrary  gag  all  over 
the  place ! 

But  just  as  they  came  in  the  stretch 
Prett)  Boy  forgot  son.ething  and  went 
back  after  it. 

The  roach  quit  me  cold  at  the  very 
door  of  the  safety  deposit  vaults. 
I  was  under  the  water  a  long  time. 
Finally  I  heard  Clara  Jane  saying, 
"  Isn't  it  lucky  you  didn't  bet  on  this 
race.  I  believe  you  would  have  picked 
that  foolish  looking  horse  that  stopped 
over  there  to  bite  the  fence !  " 

"  Pm  done !  turn  me  over !  "  I  mur- 
mured, and  then  I  rushed  down  among 
the  ramblers  and  made  a  swift  touch 
for  the  price  of  a  couple  of  rides  home. 


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AT    THE    RACES 


25 


On  the  way  back  Clara  Jane  made 
me  promise  again  that  I'd  be  awfully, 
awfully  careful  of  my  $19,218. 

I  promised  her  I  would. 


y^: 


l:v. 


i\ 


.ir 


JOHN    HENRY 
WITH    THE    DRUMMERS. 


1^1 


'J^J^ 


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?^"f'TTriiTBififtiff'1^^'^"'>'^-'"*'^'^^'^<'»»^'*!! 


■"--    M  7^A  -H"  ■  L*-  I  ^Tt-.^^--m. «  IJE^.    J^^g.    ^  J 


-'^v^^^^l' 


A  bunch  of  brisk  boys — 
believe  me  !" — Pape  29. 


! 


ii^ 


•*:■ 


ft 


i 


■    , 


n 


_  A.    ■■VT-ga^    '    -      '^i     »      -y"-- ij 


;     ..j^^f^j?  -^^:->^^^^^.ag£?^! 


ii 


JOHN  HENRY  WITH  THE 
DRUMMERS. 

IT  was  a  swift  squad  of  sports  tnat 
climbed  into  a  coach  and  al- 
lowed themselves  to  be  janked 
over  the  rails  in  the  direction  of  Chica- 
go one  morning  last  week. 
A  bunch  of  brisk  boys — believe  me ! 
Nick  Dalrymple,  Tod  Stone,  Slim 
Barnes — say !  do  you  remember  Slim  ? 
Travels  for  a  clothing  house  in  Cin- 
cinnati and  they  call  him  Slim  because 
he's  so  fat  that  every  time  he  turns 
around  he  meets  himself  coming  back. 


3° 


JOHN    HENRY 


He's  all  to  the  good — that  boy  is ! 

And  such  a  cut-up ! 

Shm  knows  more  "look-out! — 
there's  -  a  -  lady  -  over  -  there !"  stories 
than  any  other  drummer  in  the  busi- 
ness. 

Nick  goes  after  the  gilt  things  for  a 
hardware  house  in  Columbus  and  he 
knows  everybody  in  the  world — bar  no 
one  living. 

Xick  has  only  one  trouble,  he  wiH 
paddle  after  the  ponies. 

Whenever  he  makes  a  town  where 
there's  a  pool  room  his  expense  ac- 
count gets  fat  and  beefy,  and  Xick  be- 
gins to  worry  for  fear  he  may  win 
something. 

He  won  $12  in  Cleveland  once  and 
he  spent  $218  at  a  boozeologist's  that 


WITH    THE   DRUMMERS 


31 


night  getting  statistics  on  how  it  hap- 
pened. 

Tod  Stonv  cuts  ice  for  a  match  fac- 
tory in  .Xewark  an.l  he's  the  hfe  of 
a  small     ir' ''. 

Tod's  main  1k*1J  is  to  creep  into  the 
"reading  room  "  of  a  Rube  hotel  after 
the  chores  are  done  of  an  evening  and 
throw  saive  at  the  come-ons. 

Tod  tells  them  that  their  town  is 
the  brightest  spot  on  the  map  and  they 
warm  up  to  him  and  want  to  buy  him 
sarsapa-  Ula  and  root  beer. 

Then  when  he  gets  them  stuck  on 
themselves  he  sells  them  matches. 

"  Pipe  the  gang  to  quarters  and  all 
rubber !  "  said  Slim,  about  half  an  hour 
after  the  train  pulled  out. 

In  the  seat  ahead  of  us  a  somewhat 
demure  looking  Proposition   in  rain- 


!> 


32 


JOHN   HENRY 


bow  rags  had  been  sampling  the  scen- 
ery ever  since  we  started. 

We  had  all  given  her  the  glad  glance 
but  she  was  very  much  Cold  Storage, 
so  we  passed  it  up. 

As  Slim  spoke,  the  Proposition  was 
jomed  by  a  young  chap  with  a  loose 
face  who  had  been  out  in  the  smoking 
room  working  faithfully  on  one  of 
tliose  pajama  panatclla  cigars  that  bite 
you  on  the  finger  if  you  show  the  least 
sign  of  fear. 

Just  then  the  train  stopped  for  a  few 
minutes  and  we  were  put  wise  to  the 
fact  hat  it  was  an  incurable  case  of 
bride  and  groom. 

"Oh!       Boozey     is     back     to    his 
Birdie!"   said   the  brand  new   wife; 
"  did  Boozey  like  his  smoky  woky  ?  " 
Boozey  opened  a  bunch  of  grins  and 


WITH   THE    DRUMMERS 


3i 


sat  d  \vn  wliile  wifey  patted  his  cheek 
and  cooed : 

*'  Is  urns  glad  to  get  back  to  urns 
'ittle  wifey-pifey?  " 

Nick  Dalrymple  and  Tod  Stone  be- 
gan to  scream  inwardly  and  Slim  was 
chuckling  like  a  pet  porpoise. 

"  Sweetie  mustn't  be  angry  with 
Petic,  but  Sweetie  is  sitting  on  Petie's 
'ittle  hand  !  "  said  the  bride,  whereup- 
on Tod  exploded  and  Slim  began  to 
grab  for  his  breath. 

A  Dutch  brewer  antl  his  wife  sat 
right  ahead  of  Boozey  and  Birdie  and 
every  once  in  a  while  the  old  hup 
puncher  would  turn  around  and  beam 
benignly  over  the  gold  rims  at  the 
bride. 

"  Boozie  must  snuggy-wuggy  up 
closer  to  his  Coozie  and  skeeze  her 


34 


JOHN    HENRY 


'itty  arm — no,  no,  not         waist !   you 
naughty !   naughty !  " 

The  brewer  was  back  at  the  bride 
with  another  gold-rimmed  goo-goo 
when  his  wife  got  nervous  and  cut 
in: 

"  Is  id  you  turn  your  face  to  see 
someding — yes?''  she  snapped,  and 
the  foam  builder  ducked  to  the  window 
and  began  to  eat  scenery. 

Dalrymple  was  almost  out ;  Tod  was 
under  the  seat  sparring  fo-  wind  ;  Slim 
was  giving  an  imitation  of  a  coal- 
barge  in  a  heavy  sea,  and  the  rest  of 
the  passengers  were  in  various  stages 
from  hiccoughs  to  convulsions. 

"  l3  Boozey  comfy  wif  his  'itty 
weeny  teeny  Birdie?"  chirped  the 
bride. 

"  Boozey  is  so  happy  wif  his  xizy — 


,i- 


*^rHr!88jBfcMttBHniI\BTt?MMC83B?M^f' 


WITH   THE    DRUMMERS 


35 


"ivizzy  !  "  gurgled  the  husband  ;  "  how's 
my  'ittle  girley  wirly  ?  " 

"  Oh !  she's  such  a  happy  wappy 
'ittle  fing !  "  giggled  the  dotty  dame, 
pinching  her  piggie's  ear,  wher-^upon 
the  brewer  tried  to  hand  the  bride  an- 
other gasoline  gaze,  but  the  old  lady 
caught  him  with  the  goods : 

"  Is  id  to  my  face  you  go  behind  my 
back  to  make  googley-googley  eyes 
ad  somevun — yes?  "  she  growled,  and 
in  a  minute  the  brewer's  brow  was 
busy  with  the  window  pane. 

"  Sweetie  looks  at  Petic  and  Sweetie 
sees  that  Petie's  p'etty  face  is  getting 
sunburned,  so  it  is!"  cuckooed  Mrs. 
Dafify ;  '*  and  Sweetie  has  a  dood  mind 
to  tiss  him,  too !  " 

They  opened  a  newspaper,  crawled 


36 


JOHN    HENRY 


under  cover  and  began  to  bite  each 
other  on  the  chin. 

"  Go  as  far  as  you  like!  "  said  SHm, 
then  he  went  down  and  out. 

The  man  who  Iielped  to  make 
Weehawken  famous  had  his  head  out 
the  window  watching  for  an  ice- 
wagon,  and  Mrs.  Brewer  was  indus- 
triously muttering  "  Du  bist  ein  Xarr 
Du  bist  ein  Xarr !  " 

Just  then  the  train  pulled  out  and 
saved  out  lives. 

Xick,  Tod,  Slim  and  I  went  over 
near  the  water-cooler  to  rest  up,  and 
in  a  minute  the  three  of  them  were 
fanning  each  other  with  fairy  tales 
about  the  goods  they  sold. 

I'll  back  these  three  boys  to  dream 
longer  than  any  other  drummers  on 
the  track. 


»!i 


WITH   THE   DRUMMERS 


37 


It's  a  pipe  that  they  can  sell  bills  to 
each  other  all  day  and  never  wake 
up. 

Slim  turned  the  gas  on  to  the  limit 
about  hypnotizing  a  John  W'anaiiiaker 
merchant  prince  in  Pikesville,  Indi- 
ana, to  the  extent  of  $200  for  open- 
work .-ocks.  farmer's  size,  and  Todd 
Stone  sent  his  balloon  up  by  telling  us 
how  he  >old  the  Siegel-Coopers  of 
Bugsport,  Iowa,  $300  worth  of  Pana- 
ma hats  for  horses. 

The  Hot  Air  Association  was  in  full 
session  when  Buck  Jones  caromed 
over  from  the  other  end  of  the  car  and 
weighed-in  with  us. 

Buck  is  a  sweller. 

He  thinks  he  strikes  twelve  on  all 
occasioiis,  but  his  clocl.  's  ail  to  the 
bad. 


y 


3« 


JOHN    HENR\ 


Buck  isn't  a  drummer — nay!  nay! 
take  back  your  gold ! 

He'll  look  you  straight  in  the  Lye 
and  tell  you  he's  a  travelling  salesman 
— nix  on  the  drummer ! 

I  think  Buck  sells  canned  shirt 
waists  for  the  Shine  Brothers. 

Buck's  wife  and  a  three-year-old 
were  traveling  with  him,  but  he  wasn't 
giving  it  out  through  a  megaphone. 

Buck  is  one  of  those  goose-headed 
guys  who  begin  to  scratch  gravel  and 
start  in  to  make  a  killing  every  time 
they  see  a  pretty  girl. 

Across  the  aisle  sat  two  pet  canaries 
from  Plainfield,  New  Jersey. 

They  were  members  of  the  Sou- 
brette  Stinging  Society  and  they  were 
en    route    to   the    West   to   join    the 


n 


I  'I 


^il 


WITH   THE   DRUMMERS 


39 


"  Bunch  of  Birds  Burlesque  Com- 
pany." 

Their  names  were  MilHe  and  TiUie 
and  they  wore  Florodora  hats  and  did 
a  sister  act  that  contained  more  bad 
grammar  than  an  East  Side  pinochle 
game. 

Millie  was  fully  aware  that  she 
could  back  Duse  off  the  map,  and  Til- 
lie  was  ready  to  bet  a  week's  salary 
that  she  could  make  Bernhardt  feel 
like  she  was  out  in  the  storm  we  had 
Jay  before  yesterday. 

Slim  called  them  the  Roast-Beef 
Sisters,  Rare  and  Well-done. 

In  a  minute  the  castors  on  Buck's 
neck  began  to  turn. 

SHp'  put  us  wise  with  a  wink  so 
we  lit  the  fire  and  began  to  cook  it  up. 


40 


JOHN    HENRY 


11 


Buck's  heart  was  warming  for  the 
birds  in  the  gilded  cage. 

"The  real  Kibo!"  said  Slim;  "it's 
a  plain  case  of  Appomattox ;  the  war 
is  over  and  they  are  yours.  Buck !  " 

Buck  turned  a  few  more  volts  into 
his  twinkling  lamps. 

"  Lower  your  mainsail,  Buck,  and 
drop  alongside ;  you've  made  the  land- 
ing," suggested  Nick. 

Buck  began  to  feel  his  neck-tie  and 
play  patty-cake  with  the  little  bald 
spot  on  the  top  of  his  head. 

"  Stop  the  hansom  and  get  out  ; 
you're  at  your  comer,"  said  Tod. 

The  Sweet  Dreams  across  the  way 
were  giving  Buck  the  glorious  eye-roll 
and  he  felt  that  dinner  was  ready. 

"Hang   up   your   hat,    Buck,    and 


l\, 


WITH    THE    DRUMMERS 


41 


gather   the   myrtle   with   Mary !  "     I 
chipped  in. 

Then  Buck  bounced  over  and  began 
to  show  MiUie  and  TilUe  what  a  hand- 
some brute  he  was  at  close  quarters. 

He  sat  on  the  arm  of  the  seat  and 
steamed  up. 

In  less  than  a  minute  he  crowded 
the  information  on  them  that  he  was  a 
millionaire  who  had  escaped  from  Los 
Angeles,  Cal.,  and  he  was  just  going 
to  put  them  both  in  grand  opera  when 
his  three-year-old  toddled  down  the 
aisle  and  grabbed  him  by  the  coat  tail : 

"  Papa !  Mama  wants  '00  to  det  my 
bottle  of  milk !  " 

"  Stung!  "  shrieked  Slim. 
"  Back    to    the    nursery !  "    howled 
Tod,  and  then  as  Buck  crawled  away 
to  home  and  mother  we  let  out  a  yell 


•  IJ 


42 


JOHN    HKNRY 


ti 


I 


that  caused  the  conductor  to  think  the 
train  had  struck  a  Wild  West  show. 

During  the  rest  of  the  trip  Buck 
was  nailed  to  his  seat. 

Every  time  he  tried  to  use  the  clastic 
in  his  neck  the  wife  would  burn  him 
with  a  hard,  cold  p:litter. 

The  Roast- Dccf  Sisters  seemed  to  be 
all  carved  up  about  something  or 
other. 

We  were  back  to  the  shop  selling 
things  again  when  Sledgeheimer  flut- 
tered down  among  us. 

The  boys  call  him  putty  because  he's 
the  next  thing  to  a  pane. 

He's  such  a  stingy  loosener  that  he 
looks  at  you  with  one  eye  so's  not  to 
waste  the  other. 

If  you  ask  Sledgeheimv^r  what  time 


-.',1^ .  *r;-, 


WITH    THE    DRUMMKKS 


43 


it  is  he  takes  off  four  minutes  as  his 
commission  for  telUng  you. 

"  Barnes,"  said  Sledgeheimer.  "do 
you  smoke  ?  " 

It  was  a  knock-out. 

In  the  annals  of  the  road  no  one 
could  look  back  to  the  proud  day  when 
Sledgeheimer  had  coughed. 

Once,  so  the  legend  runs,  ho  gave 
a  porter  a  n'ckcl.  but  it  was  after- 
wards discovered  that  Sledgeheimer 
was  asleep  and  not  responsible  at  the 
time,  so  the  porter  gave  it  back. 

Sledgeheimer  tried  to  collect  three 
cents  interest  for  the  time  the  porter 
kept  the  nickel,  and  the  conductor  had 
to  punch  his  mileage  and  his  nose  be- 
fore he'd  let  go. 

And  now  Sledgeheimer  had  asked 
Barnes  if  he  smoked. 


i 


44 


JOHN   HENRY 


i     i 


Slim  was  pale  but  game. 

"  Sometimes !  "  he  answered. 

"  Do  you  like  a  goot  seegar  ? " 
queried  Sledgeheimer. 

We  looked  for  the  engine  to  bit  a 
cow  any  minute  now. 

"  Sure !  "  said  Slim,  weak  all  over. 

"Veil,"  said  Sledgeheimer,  ''here 
is  my  brudder-in -law's  card.  He 
makes  dot  Grass  Vidow  seegar  on 
Sigsth  Afenue.  Gif  him  a  call  und 
mention  my  name.  He  vill  be  glat  to 
see  you,  yet." 

Then  Sledgeheimer  went  away  back 
and  sat  down. 

The  laugh  was  on  Slim  so  he  got 
busy  with  the  button. 


■  < 


JOHN   HENRY    IN    BOHEMIA 


HMH 


II 


JOHN  HENRY  IN  BOHEMIA. 


BOYS !  let  me  put  you  wise !  If 
you  want  to  keep  off  the 
griddle  don't  ever  try  to 
show  your  shy  little  lady  friend  how 
the  birdies  sing  in  "  Bohemia." 
You'll  get  stung  if  you  do. 
For  the  past  six  months  Clara  Jane 
has  been  handing  out  hints  that  she'd 
like  to  have  me  take  her  down  the  line 
and  let  her  Oh,  listen  to  the  band !  in 
one  of  those  real  devilish  New  York 
restaurants. 

She  intimated  that  she'd  like  to  sit 
in  the  grand  stand  and  hold  the  watch 


48 


JOHN    HENRY 


h  ;  I 


on  those  who  are  going  the  pace  that 
kills. 

She  wanted  to  know  if  I  thought 
she  could  toy  with  a  tenderloin  steak 
in  a  careless  cafe  without  getting  the 
call  down  from  Uncle  William, 

Clara  Jane's  Uncle  William  hands 
out  the  lesson  leaflets  in  Sunday 
school  and  wrestles  the  Golden  Rule 
to  a  nnish  every  Sabbath. 

During  the  week  he  conducts  a  fire 
sale. 

I  told  her  I  thought  she  could  and 
she  was  pleased. 

"  I'm  just  crazy  to  take  lunch,  some- 
time, among  the  Bohemians ! "  she 
gurgled. 

I  told  her  I  though  she'd  have  a 
happier  time  if  we  tramped  down  to 
the  tunnel  and  butted  in  among  the 


l! 


1 


IN    BOHEMIA 


49 


Italians  just  as  the  twelve  o'clock 
whistle  blew,  and  she  threw  both 
lamps  at  me  good  and  hard. 

Clara  Jane  spent  the  summer  once 
at  Sag  Harbor  and  she's  been  a  sub- 
scriber for  The  Yoiiug  Ladies'  Home 
Companion,  but  outside  of  these  her 
young  life  has  been  devoid  of  excite- 
ment. 

A  few  days  ago  I  took  her  to  the 
matinee  at  ''  The  New  York  "  where 
you  have  to  pinch  off  only  50  cents  and 
then  you're  entitled  to  slosh  around  In 
parlor  furniture  and  eat  up  about  $8 
worth  of  comedy. 

That  "New  York"  thing  is  immense 
— believe  me ! 

Everything  else  has  faded  away. 

After  the  show  we  thought  we'd  pat 


\ 


•cN^»>'  -^l^-**!^ 


50 


JOHN    HENRY 


the  pave  for  a  few  blocks  and  who 
should  we  run  into  but  Bud  Phillips. 

Bud  belongs  to  the  Grand  Lodge  of 
Good  Fellows. 

So  far  as  I  can  size  him  up  the 
Good  Fellow  puts  in  twelve  hours  a 
day  trying  to  stab  himself  to  death 
with  gin  rickeys,  and  the  other  twelve 
are  devoted  to  yelling  for  help  and  ice- 
water. 

This  is  not  a  tap  on  the  door.  Nix 
on  the  knock. 

It  isn't  my  cue  to  aim  the  hammer. 

When  it  comes  to  falling  off  the 
water  wagon  I  can  do  a  bit  of  a 
specialty  in  grand  and  lofty  tumbling 
that  gets  a  loud  hand  from  all  the 
members  of  the  High  Tide  Associa- 
tion.   So  nix  on  the  knock. 

His   father  cut   out   the   breathing 


l\ 


IN    BOHEMIA 


51 


business  about  two  years  ago  and  left 
Bud  $100,000  and  a  long  dry  spell  on 
the  inside. 

Bud  has  been  in  the  lake  ever  since. 

"  As  you  were !  "  said  Bud.  "  Why, 
it's  John  Henry !  touch  thumbs,  old 
pal  ?  "  and  then  in  a  side  speech  he 
wanted  to  know  what  troupe  the  sou- 
brette  was  cutting-up  with. 

If  Clara  Jane  had  heard  him  my 
finish  would  have  hopped  over  the 
fence  then  and  there. 

But  she  didn't,  so  I  introduced  them 
and  quietly  tipped  Bud  off  to  the  fact 
that  it  will  be  a  case  of  wedding  bells 
when  Willie  gets  a  wad — be  nice!  be 
nice! 

And  Bud  woke  up  to  the  occasion. 

"  You  to  the  carryall ! "  he   said. 


^T^^I^^ 


ss 


BB 


^^4^- 


^;tM^mmimimM^ 


Sa 


JOHN    HENRY 


"  I'll  float  you  down  to  Muttheimer's 
and  we'll  get  busy  with  the  beans !  " 

"  He's  out  to  cough  for  a  few  cook- 
ies," I  explained  to  Clara  Jane. 

"  I  never  heard  of  ]\Iuttheimer's  be- 
fore," said  Clara  Jane,  on  the  side. 

"  You  luck  has  given  you  a  thrown- 
down,"  I  said. 

"  But  I  do  hope  it's  Bohemian,"  she 

sighed. 

"  Sure !  "  I  said.    I  hated  to  break 

her  heart. 

Muttheimer's  is  one  of  those  eateries 
w^here  the  waiters  look  wise  because 
they  can't  speak  English. 

If  you  ask  them  a  question  they  bark 
at  you  in  German. 

It's  supposed  to  be  Bohemian  be- 
cause there's  sawdust  on  the  floor  and 
the  flies  wear  pajamas  and  'say  "Pro- 


'^^if^m^iW:    '^^■mjKfV:?':jrf/Yi^5r.O'^^^^      m^'^£ir, 


IN    BOHEMIA 


53 


•* 


sit !  "  before  falling  in  the  stuff  that 
you  swallow  to-day  and  taste  to-mor- 
row. 

Bud  bunches  his  hits  on  the  bell  and 
the  low-forehead  has  a  Fitzsimmons 
hug  on  the  order  when  Ikey  Mincen- 
pizerrstein  crawls  into  the  harbor  and 
drops  anchor  at  our  table. 

I  don't  know  how  Ikey  ever 
pressed  close  enough  to  get  on  Bud's 
staff. 

Ikey  is  a  lazy  loosener. 

When  the  waiter  deals  out  the  check 
Ikey  is  the  busiest  talker  in  the  bunch. 

Whenever  he  passes  a  bank  he  takes 
off  his  hat  and  walks  on  his  toes. 

He's  the  sort  of  a  Sim  Dempsey 
who  sheds  in-growing  tears  every 
time  anybody  spends  money  in  his 
neighborhood. 


^'-:jn' 


I 


'  I. 

t 

« 

i  } 

il; 


M 


t' 


54 


JOHN   HENRV 


He  hates  to  see  it  wasted,  and  that's 
why  his  whiskers  peep  out  of  his  face 
and  worry  the  wind. 

But,  then,  a  Good  Fellow  doesn't 
have  to  go  to  sea  to  gather  barnacles. 

I  spoke  his  name  fast  when  I  intro- 
duced Ikey  to  Clara  Jane  but  she  was 
busy  trying  to  live  a  swift  life  by  or- 
dering a  seltzer  lemonade,  so  it  didn't 
make  much  difference,  anyway. 

"  What  is  he  ?  "  she  whispered  after 
a  bit,  "  a  painter?  " 

"Oh!  he's  a  painter  all  right,"  I 
said.    "  When  some  one  leads  him  up 

to  a  tub." 

"Water-colors  or  oil?"  she  asked. 

"  Oil,"  I  said ;  "Fusel  oil." 

"Has  he  ever  done  any  good 
thing?  "  said  she. 

"  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  Bud  Phillips." 


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li«L 


IN   BOHEMIA 


55 


"Oh,  I'm  enjoying  this  so  much! 
Who  is  the  man  with  the  fawn-like 
eyes  and  the  long  hair  at  that  other 
table?"  she  whispered. 

He  was  the  night-watchman  of  the 
apartment  house  next  door  but  I  gave 
her  an  easy  speech  to  the  effect  that 
he  was  Bill  Beethoven,  a  grandson  of 
old  man  Beethoven  who  wrote  the 
wedding  march  and  "  Mah  Rainbow 
Coon"  and  "Father  Was  a  Gentleman 
When  Mother  Was  Not  Near"  and 
several  other  gems. 

She  thought  she  was  in  Bohemia 
and  having  the  time  of  her  Ufe,  so  I 
let  her  dream. 

In  the  meantime  Budd  was  busy  try- 
ing to  put  out  the  fire  in  the  well 
Ikey  used  for  a  neck. 
Every  time  a  waiter  looked  over  at 


5f> 


JOHN    HENRY 


! 

I 


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our  table  Bud's  roll  would  blaze  up. 

Clara  Jane  concluded  she'd  broaden 
out  a  bit  on  Art  and  the  Old  Masters 
so  she  asked  Ikcy  if  he  liked  Rem- 
brandt. 

Ikey  Icxjked  at  her  out  o£  the  cor- 
ner of  one  eye  and  said,  "  Much 
'bligcd,  but  I'm  up  to  here  now!  " 

Then  he  went  to  sleep. 

Bud  was  beginning  to  see  double. 
Every  once  in  a  while  he'd  stop  trying 
to  whistle  "  Sallie,  My  Hot  Tamale," 
and  he'd  look  over  at  Clara  Jane  and 
hand  her  a  sad,  sad  smile. 

Then  he'd  press  money  in  the  wait- 
er's hand  and  wait  for  hi's  music  cue. 

Clara  Jane  had  about  decided  that 
Bohemia  was  av.-ay  up  stage,  but  I 
wouldn't  let  go.      I  wanted    her    to 


IN    BOHEMIA 


57 


i  i\ 


get  tbe  lesson  of  ner  life,  and  that's 
where  my  finish  began  to  get  busy. 

Tom  Barclay  waltzed  into  the  sub- 
way, saw  m.'  and  in  a  minute  he  was 
making  the  break  of  his  life. 

■*  Why,  hello,  John  Henry !  "  :^aid 
Tom,  "  say,  I  saw  her  to-  day— and 
she's  immense!  You've  got  a  great 
eye,  old  man !  " 

I  tossed  oflf  a  few  wicked  winks  on 
that  great  eye  of  mine  but  Tom  went 
right  along  to  the  funeral. 

"  Lizzie  B.  is  a  peach,  Jolin  Henry! 
You've  got  the  eye  for  the  good  girls, 
all  right,  all  right !  "  he  chortled. 

Clara  Jane  began  to  freeze. 

I  felt  like  a  boiled  potato  in  the 
hands  of  an  Irish  policeman. 

"  She'3  every  bit  to  the  good,  old 
man !  "  Tom  turned  it  on  again ;  "  she 


58 


JOHN   HENRY 


I? 


makes  all  the  other  birds  chatter  in  the 
cage.  And  her  feet— did  you  ever  see 
such  feet  ? " 

I  looked  at  Clara  Jane's  face,  but 
there  was  no  light  in  the  window  for 
me. 

*'  You  certainly  picked  out  a  warm 
proposition  when  you  put  your  arms 
around  Lizzie  B.  and  I'm  your  friend 
for  life  for  hauling  me  up  in  the  char- 
iot with  you— what'll  you  have?" 
croaked  Tom. 

"  Thirty-two  bars  rest,"  I  whispered 
hoarsely ;  "  cut  it  all  out !  " 

"Cut  out  nothing!"  said  the  prize 
idiot;  "We'll  drink  to  Lizzie  B. 
What'll  your  lady  friend  have?" 

When  Clara  Jane  arose  she  was  a 
mass  of  icicles. 

"  Mr.  John  Henry !    will  you  have 


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"  She  was  a  mass  of  icicles 
when  she  arose."— Page  58. 


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IN    BOHEMIA 


59 


the  kindness  to  escort  me  to  a  car  ?  " 
she  said,  giving  me  the  glittering  gig- 
lamps,  "  then  you  may  return  and  dis- 
cuss your  affairs  of  the  heart  at  your 
leisure." 

"  Stung !  "  said  Bud,  bringing  his 
hand  down  on  the  table  so  vigorously 
that  Ikey  woke  up  and  ordered  an- 
other high-ball. 

Me — to  the  Badlands!  It  took  me 
three  mortal  hours  to  convince  her  that 
Tom  Zi.'as  only  talking  about  a  horse. 

Hereafter  when  Clara  Jane  yearns 
for  something  swift  I'll  take  her  down 
and  let  her  watch  the  trolley  cars  go 
by. 


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JOHN    HENRY 
AND    THE    HOTEL    CLERK 


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JOHN  HENRY  AND  THE  HOTEL 
CLERK. 

KEE  BARCLAY,  Jim  Wilkin- 
son and  I  were  leaning  over 
the  counter  talking  to  His 
Nobs,  the  Hotel  Clerk,  when  Dan  the 
Dyspeptic  squeezed  up  and  began  to 
let  a  peep  out  of  him  about  the  pie  he 
had  eaten  for  dinner. 

"Calm    yourself!"    said    Smiling 

Steve,  "  and  tell  me  where  it  bit  you." 

Steve  has  been  throwing  keys  at 

the  wall  for  some  time,  and  he  knows 

how  to  burn  the  beefers. 

"  Bit  me !  bit  me !  "  snarled  the  old 


64 


lOHN   HENRY 


h 


i 


I 


chap;  "nothing  of  the  kind,  s'\ !     I 
want  you  to  know,  sir,  that  your  pie 
isn't  fit  to  eat,  sir !  " 
"Cut  it  out ! "  suggested  Steve. 
"  Cut  it  out,  sir !  how  can  I  cut  it 
out  when  I've  eaten  it,  sir?    It's  an 
outrage  and  I  shall  leave  this  hotel  to- 
morrow," said  Dan. 

"  With  the  exception  of  $31.72,  bal- 
ance due,  that  will  be  about  all  from 
you !  "  said  Steve. 

"I'll  see  the  proprietor,"  said  the 
old  fellow,  moving  away  with  a  face 
on  him  like  an  interrupted  beef  stew. 
"  We  get  it  good  and  plenty  every 
day,"  said  Steve,  and  just  then  Skate 
Peters  grabbed  the  book  and  burned 
his  John  Hancock  on  it. 

I  knew  his  name  was  Skate  because 
it  looked  like  one  on  the  register. 


IffffMaiMii 


AND   THE   HOTEL   CLERK 


65 


"  Bath  ?  "  queried  Steve. 

"  Only  during  a  hot  wave,"  said 
Skate. 

Steve  went  to  the  ropes,  but  he  came 
up  smilin.-,  as  usual. 

"American  or  European ?"  asked 
Steve. 

"  Neither,"  said  Skate ;  "  Don't  you 
see  I'm  from  Jersey  City." 

"Going  to  be  with  us  long?"  in- 
quired Steve. 

"  Say,  Bub !  you're  hellanall  on  ask- 
ing questions,  now  aint  you  ? "  an- 
swered Skate ;  "  you  just  push  me  into 
a  stall  and  lock  the  gate — I'm  tired." 

"  Front !  show  this  gentleman  to 
49 !  "  said  Skate,  side-stepping  to  avoid 
punishment. 

Then    Sweet    William,    the    Boy 


<     if 


i\ 


66 


JOHN    HENRY 


Drummer,  hopped  into  the  ring  for  the 
next  rounJ. 

Willie  peddles  pickles  for  the  fun 
he  gets  of  it. 

It  is  Willie's  joy  and  delight  to  get 
a  ginger  ale  bun  on  and  recite  "  'Ostler 
Joe." 

When  trained  down  to  95  flat  Willie 
can  get  up  and  beat  the  clapper  off 
"  Curfew  Shall  Not  Ring  To-night." 

When  Willie  gets  a  strangle  hold 
on  "  Sheridan's  Ride  "  you  can  hear 
horses  galloping  outside. 

It's  the  rest  of  the  community  get- 
ting out  of  harm's  way. 

"  Any  mail  ?  "  inquired  Willie. 

All  the  mail  that  Willie  ever  gets 
is  a  postal  card  from  the  pickle  factory 
evsry  two  weeks  asking  him  if  the 


^Vjg^f 


AND  THE   HOTEL   CLERK 


67 


people  along  his  route  have  all  lost 
their  appetites. 

"  No  literature  for  you,"  Steve  an- 
swered. 

"Strange,"  said  Willie,  "my  lady 
friends  are  very  remiss,  aren't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it  looks  like  they  were  otit 
to  drop  >x)u  behind  the  piano,"  .said 
Steve. 

Willie  tore  off  a  short  rabbit  laugh 
and  then  inquired  what  time  the  next 
train  left  for  New  York. 

The  pickle  factory  expects  Willie  to 
make  Pocomoke  City,  Squashtown 
Junction  and  Nubbinsville  before  next 
Sunday,  so  he  tossed  the  train  gag 
out  just  to  show  Steve  that  he  knows 
there's  a  place  called  New  York. 

"  At  7.45  over  the  D.  L.  &  Q.,"  said 
Steve. 


in 


1  i 


68 


JOHN    HENRY 


! 


'  I 


"  What's  the  nex^  ?  "  inquired  Wil- 
lie. 

"At  8.IO  over  the  H.  B.  &  N.," 
Steve  answered. 

"Which  gets  there  first?"  Willie 
asked. 

"  The  engineer,"  sighed  Steve. 

•'  Oh,  you  droll  chap !  "  said  the 
pickle  pusher ;  "  give  me  some  tooth- 
picks." 

Then  Sweet  William  went  over  to 
the  big  window,  burrowed  into  a  chair, 
stuck  his  feet  up  on  the  brass  rail,  ate 
toothpicks  and  thought  he  was  IT. 

When  I  got  back  to  Steve  he  was 
dealing  out  the  cards  to  a  lady  from 
Reading,  Pa.,  and  Kee  and  Jim  had 
ducked  to  the  billiard  room. 

Her  hu-sband  had  been  up  in  the  air 
with  a  bum  automobile  and  when  he 


AND   THE   HOTEL  CLERK 


69 


came  dovvo  he  was  several  sections 
shy. 

They  found  a  monkey  wrench  im- 
bedded in  his  left  shoulder  which  he 
couldn't  remember  using  when  he 
tried  to  fix  the  machine. 

She  was  traveling  for  his  health. 

"  My  room  is  too  near  the  elevator," 
she  informed  Steve. 

■'  I  can  give  you  a  very  nice  room 
on  the  third  floor — Front !  show  the 
lady- — " 

"  Same  size  room  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madam." 

"Same  colored  carpet  on  the  floor?  " 

"  I  believe  it  has — Front !  show  the 
lady " 

"  Southern  exposure? " 
"  Yes,  Madam,  it's  at  the  end  of  the 
hall." 


•jtt::5»52ta5 


^v:m<m^mi 


70 


JOHN   HENRY 


"  I  want  a  room  near  the  elevator, 
that's  always  the  way  in  these  hotels ! 
One  can  never  get  just  what  one 
wants!  At  the  end  of  the  hall,  in- 
deed !  "  And  with  this  she  gave  Steve 
the  Society  sting  widi  both  eyes  and 
flounced  out. 

Steve  bit  the  end  off  a  pen  holder 
and  said  the  rest  internally. 

Just  then  a  couple  of  troupers 
trailed  in. 

They  were  with  the  "  Bandit's  Bride 
Co.,"  and  the  way  had  been  long  and 
w^irv. 

"  What  have  you  got — double  ?  " 
asked  the  villain  of  the  piece. 

"  Two  dollars  and  up !  "  said  Steve. 

"  Nothing  better  ?  "  inquired  Low 
Comedy — he  was  making  a  crack  but 
nobody  caught  him. 


i 


AND    THE    HOTEL    CLERK 


71 


"Four  dollars,  with  bath,"  Steve 
suggested. 

"  Board  ?  "  asked  the  villain. 

"  Nothing  but  the  sleeps  and  a  fresh 
cake  of  soap,"  said  Steve. 

"Ring  dov/n!"  Low  Comedy  put 
in ;  "  Why,  we  lived  a  whole  week  in 
Pittsburg  for  loss  than  that." 

"  You  can  turn  the  same  trick  here 
if  you  carry  your  own  coke  and  sleep 
in  the  Park,"  said  Steve. 

"What's  tlie  name  of  this  mint?" 
asked  the  villain. 

Steve  told  him. 

"  To  the  tow-path !  "  said  Barrett 
Macready;  '"we're  outside  the  life 
lines.  We  thought  it  was  the  Liver- 
wurst  Hotel  where  they  throw  things 
at  your  appetite  for  $1  a  day.  double. 
To  the  left,  wheel !    Forward,  march  !" 


% 


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72 


jOnS    HENRY 


and  o!ice  more  t)ie  drama  was  on  its 
way. 

As  Low  Comedy  turned  proudly  on 
his  heel  lio  threw  upon  the  counter 
a  printed  card. 

Steve  had  it  framed  and  gkied  to  the 
wall  next  day. 

It  read  as  follows. 

HOTEL     RULKS-IIELP    YOURSELF. 


Rule  i.— We  cash  no  checks  drawn  on 
Papa.     He's  a  dead  one. 

Rui-E  2. — Eat  all  our  hooze  you  want  to, 
but  go  elsewhere  and  select  your  snakes. 

RvLE  3.— Don't  call  the  waitress  by  her 
first  name.  She's  liahle  to  spoil  your  appe- 
tite. 

Rule  4.— Guests  who  desire  to  have 
nightmare  will  find  the  harness  in  the 
restaurant,  so  back  up  I 


AND  THE  HOTFL  CLERK 


73 


Rule  5. — To  prevent  guests  from  carry- 
ing fruit  from  the  table  we'll  have  no  fruit. 
We're  lucky  to  have  the  table. 

Rule  6.— If  you  feel  tired,  go  away  back 
and  sit  down. 

Rule  7.— In  case  of  fire  jump  out  the 
window  and  turn  to  the  left. 

Rule  8.— Breakfast  from  4  to  3;  dinner 
from  hand  to  mouth,  and  supper  from 
what's  left  over. 

Rule  q.— Hug  as  many  high-balls  as  you 
please,  but  don't  wave  the  red  flag  in  the 
of!ice— you  might  disturb  Harold  Spot- 
wood,  the  room  clerk.  He  was  out  late  lasJ 
night. 

Rule  ic— If  you  don't  like  your  room, 
kick  the  bell-boy.  Apply  at  the  office  for 
spiked  shoes. 

Rule  ii. — If  you  don't  see  what  you 
want  ask  for  it  and  you'll  get  it — good  and 
hard! 

Rule  12.— Ask  the  bar-keeper  to  let  you 
have  one  of  our  justly  celebrated  high 
tides.     It  will  do  you  good. 


\i 


\:1 


74 


JOHN   HENRY 


Rule  13. — Try  our  boneless  potato  salad; 
apply  to  the  night  watchman. 

Rule  14.— All  the  shines  are  not  in  the 
barber  shop.     Lie  down,  Fido. 

Rule   i5._That  will  be  about  all  from 
you. 


>» 


JOHN  HENRY 
AND  THE  BENZINE  BUGGY. 


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JOHN  HENRY  AND  THE  BEN- 
ZINE BUGGY. 


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ACROSS-COUNTRY     dub 
named   Montrose   has   been 
doing    the    Shine    specialty 
around  Clara  Jane  lately. 

He  began  to  call  evenings  and 
bring  a  bunch  of  ready-grown  flowers 
with  him  as  big  as  a  liay  stack. 

Then  he'd  spread  around  the  parlor 
and  tell  her  how  he  won  the  long-dis- 
tance running  jump  in  the  oi  Yale 
class. 

As  you  approacTled  him  from  the 


78 


JOHN   HENRY 


front  the  first  name  you  saw  was  Clar- 
ence— Clarence    Edgerton    Montrose. 

Wouldn't  that  slap  you  I 

I  don't  think  Clara  Jane  considered 
him  the  real  kittens,  but  he  could  talk 
fast  and  use  long  words  and  she  found 
him  pleasant  company. 

She  said  she  loved  to  sit  and  shade 
her  eyes  with  the  $8  fan  I  gave  her 
and  listen  to  Clarence  Edgerton  Mont- 
rose while  he  discoursed  about  Pales- 
tine and  the  Holy  Land. 

If  he  was  ever  there  he  went  in  a 
hack. 

That's  the  trouble  with  some  of 
those  college  come-outs!  The  Pro- 
fessors beat  them  over  the  head  with 
a  geography  and  then  as  soon  as  they 
get  a  crowd  around  they  begin  to  go 


'm^. 


AND  THE   BENZINE   BUGGY 


79 


to  the  places  that  struck  them  hard- 
est. 

As  an  honest,  hard-worknig  man  it 
was  my  duty  to  put  the  boots  to  Ed- 
gerton  and  run  him  down  the  lane  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

So  I  framed  up  Clarence's  finisli 
with  much  attention  to  detail. 

I  lool\ed  over  Clara  Jane's  dates 
ahead  and  found  that  Clarence  had 
rented  the  house  for  a  Wednesday 
matinee,  so  I  hired  one  of  those  horse- 
less carriage  things  and  j)ulled  up  in 
front  of  the  windows  just  about  the 
time  I  thought  His  Feathers  would 
be  playing  the  overture. 

I  knew  that  Clara  Jane  would  can- 
cel the  contract  with  the  mutt  that 
mixed  in  just  as  soon  as  she  saw  the 
automobile  >inap. 


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^^.  5  653   East   Mam    Street 

r^  Roctiester,   New   York        U609       USA 

,Jgg  (716)    482  -  0300  -  Phone 

SSS  (716)    288  -  5989  -  Fax 


80 


JOHN   HENRY 


I     , 


I  ^gnred  that  tne  picture  entitled 
"Tiie  True  Lover's  Departure  in  the 
Dream  Wagon  "  would  put  a  crimp  in 
Clarence  about  the  size  of  a  barn  door. 

It  was  my  third  or  fourth  time  be- 
hind the  lever  of  the  busy  barouche, 
but  1  was  wise  that  you  pulled  the 
plug  this  way  when  you  wanted  it  to 
go  ahead,  and  you  shoved  it  back  when 
you  wanted  it  to  stop. 

When  it  came  to  benzine  buggies 
I  felt  that  my  education  was  complete. 

I  was  George  Gazazza,  the  real  Ro- 
lando, when  I  pulled  up  in  front  of 
my  lady  friend's  front  gate. 

My  market  price  was  $18,000  a 
square  inch. 

In  six  minutes  by  the  watch  Clara 
Jane  was  down  and  in  the  kerosene 
caravan. 


M'-* 


"  For  a  chaser  she  wore  one  of 
those  feather  boas." — Page  81. 


ft 


AND    THE    BENZINE    BUGGY 


8i 


Clarence  hadn't  arrived. 

Somebody  must  have  put  him  next, 
but  I  knew  where  he  lived  and  I  fig- 
ured it  out  that  after  we  came  back 
from  Lonely  Lane  I'd  send  the  landau 
around  and  around  tlie  block  he 
camped  in  till  I  made  him  dizzy. 

Clara  Jane  was  the  feature  of  the 
game. 

She  was  the  limit  in  ladies'  dress 
goods. 

For  a  chaser  she  wore  one  of  those 
feather  boas  that  feel  cool  because 
they  look  so  warm. 

Well,  I  turned  the  horseless  gag  into 
the  shell  road  and  cut  loose. 

We  were  doing  about  43  miles  an 
hour  and  the  birdies  were  singing  on 
the  wa}-. 

Clarence    Edgerton    Arontrose    was 


-'■irl' 


83 


JOHN   HENRY 


working  in  Shaft  No.  3,  back  in  the 
mines — my  lady  friend  told  me  so. 

She  was  having  the  time  of  her  Hfe. 

I  was  her  candy  boy  for  sure. 

Just  then  something  snapped  and 
the  machine  started  for  Portland, 
Maine,  on  the  basis  of  a  mile  in  eight 
seconds. 

Clara  Jane  grabbed  me  around  the 
neck  and  I  grabbed  the  lever. 

"  The  eccentric  has  buckled  the 
thingamajig!  "  I  yelled,  pushing  the 
lever  over  to  s'^op  the  carryall. 

The  thing  gave  me  the  horse  laugh, 
jumped  over  a  telegraph  pole,  bit  its 
way  through  a  barb-wire  fence  and 
then  started  down  the  road  at  the  rate 
of  2,000,000  miles  a  minute. 

"  Why  don't  you  stop  it?  "  screamed 
my  lady  friend. 


AND   THE   BENZINE   BUGGY 


83 


"  I'll  be  the  goat ;  what's  the  an- 
swer? "  I  said,  clawing  the  lever  and 
ducking  the  low  bridges. 

We  met  a  man  on  a  bicycle  and  the 
last  I  saw  of  him  as  we  whizzed  by  he 
had  found  a  soft  spot  in  a  field  about 
four  blocks  away  and  he  was  going 
into  it  head  first. 

We  kept  his  bicycle  and  carried  it 
along  on  our  smoke  stack. 

I  couldn't  stop  the  thing  to  save 
my  life. 

Every  time  I  yanked  the  lever  the 
snap  would  let  a  chortle  out  of  it's 
puzzle  department  and  fly  400  feet 
straight  through  the  air. 

We  were  headed  for  an  old  ash 
heap,  and  my  market  price  had  gone 
down  to  three  cents  a  ton. 

"  Don't  jump!  "  I  yelled  to  my  lady 


^ 


84 


JOHN    HENR\ 


friend,  but  the  wind  whisked  the  first 
half  of  my  sentence  away. 

Clara  Jane  gathered  her  skirts  in 
a  bunch  and  did  a  flying  leap  out  of 
the  crazy  cab. 

She  landed  right  in  the  middle  of 
that  heap  of  fresh  ashes — and  she 
made  good. 

All  I  could  see  was  a  great,  gray 
cloud  as  I  pushed  on  to  the  next  stand. 

About  half  a  mile  further  down  the 
road  the  machine  concluded  to  turn 
into  a  farm-yard  and  give  the  home 
folks  a  treat. 

It  went  through  a  window  in  the 
barn,  out  through  a  skylight,  did  the 
hula  dance  over  the  lawn,  and  then  fell 
in  the  well  and  stayed  there,  panting 
as  though  its  little  gas-engine  heart 
would  break. 


AND   THE   BENZINE   BUGGY 


»5 


When  I  limped  back  to  Clara  Jane 
the  storm  signals  were  flying. 

She  n-as  away  out  on  the  ice. 

The  feather  boa  looked  like  the  haw- 
ser on  a  canal  boat,  and  the  ashes  had 
changed  the  pattern  of  her  dress  goods. 

We  were  stingy  talkers  on  the  road 
home. 

It  w  III  take  me  two  years  to  square 
myself. 

Hereafter,  me  to  the  trolley ! 

Me  to  the  saucy  stage  coach  when 
I'm  due  to  gallop  away  and  away ! 

No  more  benzine  buggies  for  yours 
sincerely ! 

Xever  again  for  the  bughouse  bar- 
ouche !    Not  me. 

I  have  only  one  consolation :  The 
chap  we  pried  oft  the  bicycle  was  Clar- 
ence Edgerton  Montrose. 


86 


JOHN    HENRY 


It  will  take  him  about  three  years 
and  two  months  to  find  all  the  spots 
that  foolish-wagon  knocked  off  him. 

Meantime,  I  hope  to  be  Clara 
Jane's  sugar  buyer  again. 


JOHN    HENRY 
AT    THE    MUSICALE. 


i  )1 


i 


i 


JOHN   HENRY   AT  THE 
MUSICALS. 


DID  you  ever  get  ready  and  go 
tc  a  musicalc? 
Isn't  it  the  velvet  goods? 
They  pulled  off  one  at  Jack  Froth- 
ingham  s  last  Wednesday  evening  and 
I  had  to  walk  up  and  down  the  aisle 
with  the  rest  of  the  bunch. 

Mind  you,  I  like  Jack,  so  this  is  no 
secret  conclave  of  the  Anvil  Associa- 
tion. 

Only,  I  wish  to  put  him  wise  that 
when  he  gives  his  next  musicalc  my 


90 


JOHN   HENRY 


V! 


1' 
1  ;'i 


address  is  Forest  Avenue,  in  the 
woods. 

When  I  reached  Jack's  house  the 
Burnish  Brother^  were  grabbing 
groutchy  music  out  of  a  guitar  that 
didn't  want  to  give  up,  and  the  mad 
revel  was  on. 

The  Burnish  Brothers  part  their 
hair  in  the  middle  and  always  do  "  The 
Was^'igton  Post"  march  on  their 
mandolins  for  an  encore. 

If  ]\Ir.  Sousa  ever  catches  them 
there  J  be  a  couple  of  shine  chord- 
squeezers  away  to  the  bad. 

When  the  Burnish  Brothers  took  a 
bow  and  backed  off  we  were  all  in- 
vited to  listen  to  a  soprano  solo  by 
Miss  Tmogene  Lukewarm. 

Somebody  went  around  and  locked 


I   I 


AT  THE   MUSICALE 


91 


the  doors,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
die  game. 

A  foolish  friend  once  told  Imogene 
she  could  sing,  so  she  went  out  and 
bought  up  a  bunch  of  tra-la-la's  and 
began  to  beat  them  around  the  parlor. 

When  Imogene  sings  she  makes 
faces  at  herself. 

If  she  needs  a  high  note  she  goes 
after  like  she  was  calling  the  dach- 
shund in  to  dinner. 

Imogene  sang  "  Sleep,  Sweetly 
Sleep,"  and  then  kept  us  awake  with 
her  voice. 

After  Imogene  crept  back  to  her 
cave  we  had  the  first  treat  of  the  even- 
ing, and  the  shock  was  so  sudden  it 
jarred  us. 

Uncle  ]Mil  came  out  and  quivered  a 
violin    obligato    entitled    "  The    Lost 


>>y;.^;^^jjgjepg    j^^ 


02  JOHN   HENRY 

Sheep  in  the  Mountain,"  and  it  was 

all  there  is. 

Uncle  Mil  was  the  only  green  spot 

in  the  desert. 

When  he  gathered  the  gourd  up  un- 
der his  chin  and  allowed  the  bow  to 
tiptoe  over  the  bridge  you  could  hear 
the  nightingale  calling  to  its  mate. 

I  wanted  to  get  up  a  petition  asking 
Uncle  Mil  to  play  all  the  evening  and 
make  us  all  happy,  but  Will  Bruce 
wouldn't  let  me. 

Will  said  he  wasn't  feeling  very  well 
and  he  wanted  to  hear  the  rest  of  the 
program  and  feel  worse. 
He  got  his  wish. 

The  next  thing  we  had  was  Sybil, 
the  Illusionist. 

Sybil  did  a  lot  of  mouldy  tricks  with 
cards  and  every  few  minutes  she  fell 


"  He  gathered  the  gourd  up 
under  his  chin." — Page  92. 


I'i 

If 

iv 

'X 


IS. 

".I 


i   » 


(     ( 


AT    THE     MUSICALE 


93 


down    and    sprained    her    sleight    of 
hand. 

Sybil  was  a  polish  for  sure. 
Then  Swift  McGee,  the  Boy  Mono- 
loguist,   flung  himself   in   the   breach 
and  told  a  bunch  of  Bixbys. 
It  was  a  cruel  occasion. 
Swift  had  an  idea  that  when  it  came 
to  cracking  merry  booboos  he  could 
pull  Lew  Dockstader  off  the  horse  and 
leave  him  under  the  fence. 

As  a  monologuist  Swift  thought  he 
had  George  Fuller  Golden  half  way 
across  the  bay,  and  Fred  Niblo  was 
screaming  for  help. 

Swift  often  told  himself  that  he 
could  give  Marshall  P.  Wilder  six 
sure-fires  and  beat  him  down  to  the 
wire. 

Swift  is  one  of  those  low-foreheads 


C:-y Tft'^k- 13  ■  'Viot  'tTry'f^ 


i 


fi' 


I 


r, 


in 


94 


JOHN    HENRY 


who  "  write  their  own  stuff  "  and  say 
"  I  done  it !  " 

After  Swift  had  talked  the  audience 
into  a  chill,  he  pushed  on  and  left  us 
with  a  stone  bruise  on  our  memories. 

Then  we  had  Rufus  Nelson,  the 
parlor  prestidigitator, 

Rufus  was  a  bad  boy. 

He  cooked  an  omelet  in  a  silk  hat 
and  when  he  gave  the  hat  back  to  Ed. 
Walker  the  poached  eggs  fell  out  and 
cuddled  up  in  Ed's  hair. 

Rufus  apologized  and  said  he'd  do 
the  trick  over  again  if  someone  else 
would  lend  him  a  hat,  but  there  was 
nothing  doing. 

When  the  contralto  crawled  under 
the  ropes  and  began  to  tell  us  that  the 
bells   in   the  village  rang   ding-ding- 


II 


,  I, 


AT  THE   MUSICALE 


95 


dong  I  was  busy  watching  a  Goo-goo 

Bird. 
Did   you   ever   spot   one   of   those 

Glance-Givers  ? 

This  chap's  name  was  Llewtllyn 
Joyce,  and  he  considered  himself  a 
perfect  hellyon. 

He  thought  all  he  had  to  do  was  to 
roll  his  lamps  at  a  lassie  and  she  was 
ofif  the  slate. 

Llewellyn  loved  to  sit  around  at  the 
musicale  and  burn  the  belle  of  the 
ball  with  his  goo-goo  eyes. 

Llewellyn  needed  a  swift  slap— 
that's  what  he  needed. 

Next  we  had  the  Nonpariel  Quar- 
tette, and  they  were  the  boys  that  could 
eat  up  the  close  harmony ! 

They  sang  "  Love.  I  am  Lonely !  " 


\ 

I 
I* 


it 

i! 

i 


96 


JOHN    HENRY 


from  start  to  finish  without  stopping 
to  call  the  waiter. 

Then  we  had  Clarissa  Coldslaw  in 
select  recitations. 

She  was  all  the  money. 

Clarissa  grabbed  "  Hamlet's  Solilo- 
quy "  between  her  pearly  teeth  and 
shook  it  to  death. 

She  got  a  half-Xelson  on  Poe's  "Ra- 
ven "  and  put  it  out  of  the  business. 

Then  she  gave  an  imitation  of  the 
balcony  scene  from  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

If  Juliet  talked  like  that  dame  did, 
no  wonder  she  took  poison. 

But  when  she  let  down  her  hair  and 
started  in  to  give  us  a  mad  scene — 
me  to  the   iiand  dunes  i 

It  was  a  case  of  flee  as  a  bird  with 
yours  respectfully. 

Those  musicale  things  would  be  aces 
if  the  music  didn't  set  them  back. 


i\ 


i    i 

li 


m 


JOHN    HENRY    ON    GOLF 


JOHN  HENRY  OX  GOLF. 


m 


HEREAFTER     golf     is     the 
ganu-  for  Gilli> ! 
Me   for   the   niblick   and 
the  brassie — fine  ! 

Billy  Baldwin,  Harry  Ford  and  Ed- 
die Bartlett  took  me  out  last  summer 
and  put  me  \v'  j  the  whole  lay-out. 
In  less  than  ^a  hour  I  could  play 
the  game  better  than  Doolan,  and  he's 
the  man  that  made  it. 

Golf  has  all  the  other  games  slapped 
to  a  sit-down. 

I  know  it  because  I  played  it  once 
and  Biily  told  me  that  as  soon  as  a 


'^m 


100 


JOHN    HENRY 


in 


few  Scotch  tliistles  sprouted  on  my 
shins  I'd  be  the  real  rinakaboo! 

Harry  told  me  I  could  drive  good 
enough  to  own  a  hack,  and  Eddie 
thought  I  was  the  likeliest  side  stepper 
that  ever  did  a  grass-chopping  special- 
ty- 

The  only  drawback  they  found  was 

that  I  didn't  hit  the  ball. 

It's  immense  for  the  chest  measure- 
ment to  have  the  bunch  hand  you  out 
the  salve  spiel — believe  me! 

I  took  my  lady  friend  out  Westches- 
ter way  last  week  and  on  the  road  I 
was  Reckles>  Robert  with  the  big 
talk. 

It's  a  habit  with  me  to  go  up  and 
butt  the  ceiling  every  time  my  lady 
friend  is  near  enough  to  listen. 

Most  of  us  young  guys  are  gushers 


ii 


■    ! 

it, 


ON   GOLF 


lOI 


with  the  loud  languai^c  when  the  Best 
and  Only  is  in  the  building. 

How  we  do  like  to  gather  the  gab 
and  hand  out  hints  to  the  heroine  that 
she's  gazing  on  the  greatest  ever ! 

When  Clara  Jane  asked  me  if  I 
knew  the  game  I  told  her  that  I  used 
to  room  with  the  man  that  built  the 
first  links. 

When  she  asked  mc  his  name  I  told 
her  it  was  McDougall.  because  that's 
the  name  of  a  head-waiter  who  helps 
to  spend  my  money. 

She  asked  me  if  I  knew  what  a 
lofter  is  and  I  said,  "  Sure,  I  eat  them 
for  breakfast  every  rr  jrning!  " 

When  we  reached  Westchester  we 
met  a  Society  duck  named  Lionel  von 
Hamburg. 


f.r) 


I02 


JOHN   HENkY 


If! 


It 


K 


I  think  his  father  invented  the  Ham- 
burger steak. 

Lionel  was  all  to  the  best. 

He  was  Finnegan  the  Fine  Boy,  for 

sure. 

One  of  those  tart  little  red  coats 
squeezed  his  shape,  and  around  his 
neck  he  had  a  pink  stock  that  was 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  choke  him. 

My  lady  friend  .net  this  gilly  once 
at  a  bean  soiree  and  she  was  his  even- 
ing star. 

They  sat  on  the  stairs  together  and 
put  a  kink  in  the  caramels. 

When  the  gong  sounded  for  the  ice- 
cream that  night  Lionel  had  dipped 
her  out  a  tubful,  and  he  was  sure  she 
liked  him  for  his  boyish  ways. 

So  on  this  occasion  it  was  Lionel's 


'':!f\ 


ON   GOLF 


103 


play  to  give  me  the  low  tackle  and 
claim  the  calico. 

But  I'm  something  of  a  Mr.  Fox 
myself  on  rare  occasions,  and  I 
couldn't  see  Lionel  doing  a  two-step 
through  the  farm  lands  vith  my  Es- 
meralda—not  through  the  opera 
^bsses. 

CV^ni  Jane  introduced  me  to  His 
Pinkness  and  he  invited  us  in  the  club- 
house to  throttle  our  thirsts. 

I  ordered  a  r=ckey,  Clara  Jane  called 
for  a  lemonade,  and  Lionel's  guess 
was  a  pail  of  \'ichy  and  milk. 

When  the  suds  rolled  up  I  gave  the 
Vichy  stuff  the  sad  eye  and  Lionel 
caught  the  gaze. 

I  could  see  that  he  wanted  to  back 
pedal  right  then,  but  he  waited  until 


^ 


'"CI  I 


:jE,.Cr 


11 


R 


104 


JOHN    HENRY 


the  next  round  and  then  he  waded  out 
among  the  high  boys. 

It  was  the  bluff  of  his  life. 

His  limit  on  bug  bitters  was  im- 
ported ginger  ale  with  a  piece  of  lime 
in  it. 

When  he  was  out  roystering  and 
didn't  care  what  became  of  him  he 
would  tell  the  barter  er  to  add  a  dash 
of  phosphates. 

But  now  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
splash  around  in  the  tide  waters  just 
because  the  lady  was  looking  on. 

Lionel  felt  that  the  future  was  at 
stake  and  he  must  cut  out  the  saw-dust 
extracts  and  get  busy  with  the  grown- 
up booze. 

After  the  first  high  ball  Lionel  be- 
gan to  chatter  and  mention  money. 

The   mocking  birds   were   singing 


I  '  J 


ON   GOLF 


105 


dowiTiOn  the  old  bayou,  and  he  began 
to  give  Clara  Jane  the  loving  leer. 

She  grew  a  bit  uneasy  and  wanted 
to  start  the  paddle  wheels,  but  I  sig- 
nalled to  the  waiter  because  I  wished 
her  to  see  her  Society  slob  at  his  best. 
At  first  he  insisted  upon  dragging 
out  a  basket  of  Ruinart,  and  he  wanted 
to  order  rubber  boots  so  we  could  slosh 
around  in  it. 

But  I  steered  him  off  and  he  went  all 
the  way  up  the  hill  and  picked  out 
another  high  fellow. 

When  th  second  high  was  under 
cover  he  reached  over  and  patted  Clara 
Jane  on  the  hand. 

He  wanted  to  lead  her  away  to  Paris 
and  show  her  everything  that  money 

could  buy. 
When  she  gave  him  the  "Sir!"  gag 


[I; 

V 

J 


1 06 


JOHN    HENRY 


he  apologized  and  said  he  didn't  mean 
Paris,  he  meant  the  Pan-American. 

Then  he  smiled  feverishly  and 
opened  a  package  of  hiccoughs. 

When  Clara  Jane  and  I  moved  out 
on  the  links  Lionel  was  watching  the 
floor  and  trying  to  pick  out  a  spot 
that  didn't  go  'round  and  'round. 

His  chips  were  all  in  and  he  was 
Simon  wu     the  Souse,  for  sure. 

Clara  Jaiie  said.  "  What  a  ridiculous 
person !  "  but  what  she  meant  was,  that 
that  would  be  about  all  from  Lionel. 

Then  we  chartered  a  couple  of  cad- 
die boys  and  started  in  to  render  i  few 
choice  selections  on  the  clubs. 

]\Iy  caddie  boy's  name  was  Mike, 
and  he  looked  the  part. 

The  first  crack  out  of  the  box  I  lost 


.  I 


ON   GOLF 


107 


my  ball  and  Mike  found  it  under  his 
left  eye. 

I  gave  him  a  quarter  to  square  my- 
self and  he  said  I  could  hit  hhn  on 
the  other  eye  for  ten  cents  more. 

I  made  the  first  hole  in  26,  and  felt 
that  there  was  nothing  more  to  live 

for. 

Clara  Jane  could  have  made  it  in 
84,  but  she  used  up  her  nerve  watch- 
ing a  cow  in  the  lot  about  two  miles 

away. 

My  lady  friend  is  a  quitter  when  it 

comes  to  cows. 

Then  we  decided  to  stop  playing  and 
walk  around  the  links  just  so  we  could 
say  that  we  had  seen  most  of  the 
United  States  of  America. 

Out  near  the  Fifth  hole  we  met 
young  Mil  Robert^  and  Frank  Jenvey. 


io8 


JOHN    HENRY 


,i< 


H 


They  were  playing  a  match  for  60 
cents  a  side  and  they  were  two  busy 
boys,  all  right,  all  right. 

^lil  had  his  sleeves  rolled  up  to  show 
the  mosquito  bites  on  his  muscles,  and 
Frank  was  telling  himself  how  he 
missed  the  last  bunker. 

I  asked  Mil  what  time  it  was  and 
he  told  me.  "Three  up  and  four  to 

play !  " 

I  suppose  that  was  Central  time. 

I  handed  Frank  a  few  bars  of  polite 
conversation  but  he  gave  me  the  Frost- 
burg  face. 

Did  you  ever  have  one  of  those  real 
players  pass  you  out  the  golfish  glare  ? 

You  for  the  snowstorm  when  you 
sret  it — believe  me ! 

Then  Mil  and  Frank  dove  in  the 
mudcan,  cooked  a  pill,  placed  the  ball 


£ 


"  Jake  invited  her  to  )oin  the 
hunting  party."— Page  109. 


3ggt€m%^tl!g?Ji!RE7I--:.  «■  •  w 


} 


\  ■    \ 


■£- 
1 


^I^y^u^ 


T 


ON   GOLF 


109 


on  it,  slapped  it  in  the  slats,  gave  us 
the  dreary  day-day  and  were  on  their 
way. 

It  must  be  awful  to  play  for  money. 

At  the  Seventh  hole  we  found  Jake 
Roberts  ploughing  the  side  of  a  hill 
with  his  niblick. 

He  said  he  lost  a  ball  there  one  day 
last  summer  and  he  wanted  it  back 
because  it  belonged  to  a  set. 

Jake  said  he  went  to  Three  in  four 
with  that  ball  once,  but  the  folks 
wouldn't  believe  him  till  he  showed 
them  the  ball. 

When  I  introduced  him  to  Clara 
Jane  he  invited  her  to  join  the  hunting 
party,  and  intimated  that  I'd  enjoy 
the  new  mown  scenery  further  down 
the  line. 

I  whip-sawed  him  with  a  whistling 


i 


no 


JOHN    HENRY 


i     ' 


•i    1 


specialty  entitled.  "Why  Don't  You 
Get  a  Lady  of  Your  Own?"  and  he 
promised  to  be  good. 

After  we  trailed  over  the  mountains, 
through  seven  farms,  across  three 
rivers,  up  the  valley  and  down  the 
railroad,  we  finally  reached  the  end  of 
the  link?  and  took  the  steamer  back 
to  mother. 

Clara  Jane  says  golf  would  be  a 
great  game  if  it  wasn't  so  far  from 

home. 
Yours  till  the  bench  breaks— believe 

""''  JOHN  HENRY 


r 


r^.j^  'v^^^'  -i^j^^l^-y;- 


JOHN  HENRY.  Hugh  McHugh's 
first  book,  reached  the  25,000 
mark  two  v»  eeks  after  it  was 
published.  It's  popularity  since 
then  has  been  unprecedented. 

"  John  Henry's  philosophy  is  of  the  most 
approved  up-to-date  brand.  He  is  by  all 
odds  a  young  man  of  the  period;  he  is  a 
man  about  town.  He  is  a  slang  artist;  a 
painter  of  recherche  phrases;  a  maker  of 
tart  Americanisms. 

In  this  book— it  is  '•little,  but  oh  my  !"— 
John  Henry  recounts  some    of    his  adven- 
tures about  town,  and  he  interlardi  his  des- 
criptive passages  with  impressive  comments 
on  the  men,  women,  institutions,  and  places, 
brought  within  his  observant  notice.     We 
need  not  say  that  his  comments  are  highly- 
colored;   nor  that  his  descriptions  are   r 
markable  for  expressiveness  and  colloquial 
piquancy.     Mr.  Henry  is  a  sort  of  refmed 
and  sublimated  type  of  "Chimmie  Faddcn," 
though  there  is  by  no  means  anything  of  the 
gamin  about  him.    He  djcsn't  speak  in  rich 
coster  dialect  such  as  is  used  by  Mr.  Town- 
send's  famous  character,  nor  is  he  a  mcm- 

l 


J 


ber  of  the  same  social  set  as  the  popular 
hero  of  the  New  York  slums.  Mr.  Henry 
moves  on  a  higher  plane,  he  Ui^es  good 
English — mostly  in  tart  superlatives — and 
his  associates  are  of  a  high  social  scale. 

Mr.  Henry's  adventures  as  he  describes 
them  here  will  make  you  wonder  and  make 
you  laugh. 

His  book  abounds  in  bon-mots  of  slang; 
the  kind  you  hear  in  the  theatres  when 
tne  end-men,  comedians  and  monologuists 
are  at  their  wittiest  and  best,  when  they 
revel  in  mad  and  merry  extravagances  of 
speech  and  experience. 

It  is  an  art  to  use  street-talk  with  force 
and  terseness,  and  although  it  isn't  the  most 
elegant  phase  of  the  Queen's  English  it 
nevertheless  impresses  to  the  Queen's  taste. 
Hugh  McHugh  has  this  art."— Philadelphia 
Item. 

"  John  Henry  "  is  only  one  of  the  numer- 
ous young  men  who  are  treating  the  public 
t  •  the  latSbt  slang  through  the  medium  of 
print  nowadays,  but  he,  unlike  most  of  the 
others,  is  original  in  his  phrases,  has  the 
strong  support  of  the  unexpected  in  his  hu- 
mor and  causes  many  a  good  laugh.  For 
one  thing,  he  merely  tries  to  make  fun, 
wisely  avoiding  the  dangers  of  tcdiousness 

ii 


In  endeavoring  to  utter  immature  wisdom  in 
the  language  of  the  brainless. 

"  The  author,  Iluph  McHugli.  is  thought 
to  be  Mr.  George  V.  Hobart.  Certain  it  is 
thai  the  writer  is  a  Baltimorean.  past  or 
present;  the  local  references  evidence  that. 
In  some  places  the  expressions  have  the 
Hobart  ring  to  them.  But  if  Mr.  Hobart 
did  write  the  stories,  he  has  done  his  best 
work  of  the  kind  yet."— Baltimore  Herald. 

"  The  humor  is  of  the  sponlancous  sort 
that  runs  close  to  truth,  and  it  affords  many 
a  hearty  laugh."— Clez'eland  World. 

"  As  a  study  in  slang  it  surpasses  any- 
thing since  the  days  of  '  Artie.'  "—The 
Rocky  Mountain  News. 

"  Written  in  the  choicest  shng."— Detroit 
Free  Press. 

"  John  Henry."  A  regular  side-splitter, 
and  as  good  as  "  Billy  Baxttr."— New  York 
Prc-< 

"  It  is  as  good  as  any  of  the  books  of  its 
kind,  better  than  most  of  them,  and  is 
funny  without  being  coarse."— Por/cge 
Register. 

Ui 


.1        V 


I  i 


* 

i 

it 


Uf 


iii 


'■  Down  The  Line  With  John  Henry 
is  the  second  of  the  "John  Henry 
books  and  quickly  followed  its  pre- 
decessor along  the  highroad  <>i 
success. 

The  story  of  "John  Henry  at  tiie 
Races  "  in  "  Down  The  Line  "  has 
already  grown  to  be  a  Classic  in 
Slang.  It  is  brimful  of  human 
nature  and  is  amusing  in  the  high< 
est  degree. 

CONTENTS  OF  "DOWN  THJ^' 
LINE." 

OHN  HENRY  AT  THE  RACES. 
'OHN  HENRY  AND  THE  DRUMMERS 
.•OHN  HENRY  IN  BOHEMIA. 
JOHN  HENRY  AND  THE  HOTEL  CLERK„ 
lOHN  HENRY  AND  THE  BENZINE  BUGGV, 
JOHN  HENRY  AT  THE  MUSICALS. 
]!OHN  HENRY  PLAYS  GOLF, 
iv 


Down  the  Line'  is  one  good  iiaugix  froo! 
wveir  to  cove*,  and  «ome  of  the  experiences  afi 
Ats  clever  man  are  boto  amusing  and  mtexoii 
ini|  The  book  u  illustrated  with  some  devae 
bf  McKee  Barely,  ''^i^r.  Lftt^  Stt^. 


Jt  ^  J^ 


'At  «  'uie  former  «orame  int.  "ptaten".  (x:> 
Motion  oi  stories  is  concerned  with  adventorei  ot 
ft  man  about  town.  It  abounds  .a  the  wetniewc 
snd  newest  slanjj  re^keritU  expressions  and  tas? 
Americanisnis  There  is  much  ciever  utire  vt 
dw  manners  and  habits  of  AmericacT  Tbi 
'  down-to-date  '  man  who  ii  fond  of  Si^Ag  w^ 
ind  tn  (he  volume  a  new  sisppiy  for  Ub 
fcjMy:"— Z*j  Angelet  Exfrtu, 


•^  »5i  «^ 


"^  la  order  to  enjoy  it  you  have  got  !•  taddt 
f:  ike  Wagner  and  chain  yourself  down  for  three 
sr  ioar  sittingSi  and  then  yoo  are  en  roppori,  ae 
Is  ^)eak.     Come  again,  Jonathan  >  '-^Dtnmm 


-•?»-•. 


I  > 


"  It's  up  to  You  1"  is  the  third  book 
in  the  John  Henry  series.  This 
story  of  domestic  bliss  relates 
the  adventures  of  John  Henry dur> 
ing  his  courtship  and  marriage. 

"  It's  Up  to  You  I "  has  been  pro- 
nounced by  critics  everywhere 
the  funniest  book  of  the  year. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  there 
is  a  laugh  in  every  line  for  this 
fact  is  amply  demonstrated  by  the 
enormous  demand  for  the  book. 


*■  6 


CONTENTS  OF  "IT'S  UP  T(? 
YOU  !" 

JOHN  henry's  courtship. 

JOHN  henry's  wedding, 

JOHN  henry's  honeymoon  TRIP. 

JOHN  henry's  seashore  VISIT. 

JOHN  henry  hunts  A  FLAT. 

JOHN  henry  entertains  FRIENDS 

JOHN  HENRY  PLAYS  PING  PO^'G. 

vi 


"'It's  Up  to  You'  stares  out  from  the 
yellow  cover.  From  a  mere  passing  sight 
at  the  familiar  cheese-cloth  binding  and  the 
portrait  of  the  faultless  gentleman  in  the 
choker,  one  might  easily  think  it  was  an 
old  wandering  copy  of  the  original  'John 
Henry  ' ;  one  hardly  dares  hope  it  is  a  new 
edition  of  that  worthy's  confidence.  But 
it  is.  And  John  Henry  stabs  us  with  his 
sentiment.  He  commences  :  '  Seven  of  us 
were  entered  in  the  race  for  Clara  J.'s 
affections."  Then  he  delightfully  tells  us 
how  he  won  out  from  the  '  other  six  society 
shines. '  The  chapter  explaining  his  method 
of  dragging  papa's  and  mama's  consent 
away  from  them  is  clogged  with  many 
smiles,  and  before  the  fi'iish  of  the  honey- 
moon trip,  the  '  holler  '  is  certainly  '  Up  to 
You !  •  After  a  bit  John  Henry  hunts  a  flat 
The  finding  of  the  flat  is  the  richest  slice 
of  the  book.  He  does  more — he  lives  in 
it — with  the  consent  of  the  folks  above  and 
below;  he  entertains  and  concludes  the 
third  little  volume  of  his  spicy  adventures 
with  a  game  of  ping-pong.  Now,  never 
mind — All  men  make  mistakes. 

"We  have  not  heard  near  so  much  about 
John  Henry  as  we  have  of  ping-pong ;  we 
sin'''»i"ely  hope  to  learn  more  o-  the  former, 


1 1 


l¥  .' 


jd  we  fervently  pray  to  be  delivered  from 
the  latter.  However,  in  the  midst  of  the 
plague,  the  half  million  special  newspaper 
scribes  who  issue  a  column  of  unintelligible 
rot  daily  concerning  the  silly  game  should 
each  secure  a  copy  of  '  Its  Up  to  You  *  and 
learn  how  to  write  descriptions  of  ping- 
pong.  It  is  there  with  all  the  lucidity  of  a 
press  prize  fight  story.  If  you  must  ring  in 
an  old  subject  do  it  well— and  perhaps  you 
will  be  forgiven. 

••There  is  nothing  very  long,  or  broad, 
or  deep  in  the  John  Henry  books.    A  man 
who  attempts  to  criticise  a  hearty  laugh 
wastes  his  time,  besides  betraying  his  lack 
of  a  good  dinner.    We  have  heard  the  tales 
of   John  Henry  were  often  written  in   a 
single  night,  and  that  their  first  mission 
was  to  advertise  certain  other  things,  but 
we  will  gladly  say  nothing  about  it.     They 
are  a  decided  success;  they  are  not  copies 
of  things  we  have  read  before ;  they  are  the 
cleverest  bits  of  writing  yet  received  from 
the  pen  of  George  V.  Hobart.     Let  us  hope 
that  the  train  boys  will  not  stop  selling 
Hxem."~Ba/timore  Herald. 


vm 


♦♦  Back  to  the  Woods,"  the 
fourth  of  the  John  Henry 
series,  is  without  exag- 
geration one  hearty  laugh 
from  cover  to  cover.  The 
c.everly  conceiv..  plot  and 
the  extremely  comic  inci- 
dents in  this  book  form 
the  basis  of  the  **John 
Henry"  play  now  so 
successfully  touring  the 
United  States. 

CONTENTS  OF  "BACK  TO  THE 
WOODS." 


JOHN    HKNRY's    I.UCKY    DAYS. 
JOHN    henry's    f.HOST    STORY. 
JOHN    henry's    burglar. 
JOHN    henry's    country    COP. 
JOHN    henry's    telegram. 

JOHN  henry's  two  queens. 

JOHN    henry  S   HAI'l'Y    HOME. 


!•' 


"This  new  'John  Henry'  book  is  really 
the  best  of  the  four  written  and  further  por- 
trays the  fortunes  and  misfortunes  of  John 
Henry,  Clara  Jane,  Uncle  Peter,  Bunch, 
Aunt  Martha  and  Tacks."— AVr.-  England 
Stationer. 


•» 


"The  many  friends  of  John  Henry  will 
warmly  welcome  his  reappearance  in  the 
pages  of  Hugh  McHugh's  latest  yarn,  "  Back 
to  the  Woods."  His  thoroughly  up-to-date 
slang  and  infectious  humor  have  lost  nothing 
of  their  freshness  since  this  breezy  man 
about  town  was  last  with  us." — iVezcark 
News. 


If   .1 


"  We  will  wager  that  over  the  whole  story 
the  reader  will  laugh  his  money's  worth.  A 
small,  well  charged,  effective  book" — Eve- 
ning Sun. 

"  Back  to  the  Woods,"  the  story  of  a  fall 
from  grace,  which  for  effervescent  humor 
and  sparkling  wit,  quaint  and  original  twists 
of  .satire  and  ludicrous  situations  is  so  far 
superior  to  like  late  books  as  to  justly  merit 
being  regarded  as  a  classic  in  up-to-date 
slang." — N.   y.  American. 


11' 


i 


I 


HUGH   McHUGH'S 

FIVE  FAMOUS  BOOKS 

320,000  Copies  Sold 


••OUT   FOR  THE  COIN" 

FIRST   EDITION  30  OOO  COPIES 

••BACK  TO  THE  WOODS" 

50,000  COPIES  SOLD 

**1T'S  UP  TO  YOU!" 

60,000  COPIES  SOLD 

»»DOWN  THE  LINE 

WITH  JOHN  HENRY" 

70,000  COPIES  SOLD 

-JOHN    HENRY" 

110.000  COPIES  SOLD 

The  Five  Books  are  Illustrated.    Cloth  Bound, 
GUt  Top,  75  Cents  Each 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers  or  seat  by  mall, 
POSTAGE  FREE,  oa  receipt  of  price  by 

0.  W.  DILLiNGHAM  CO.,  Publishers 
119-iai  West  23d  St.,  New  York 


I 


POPULAR  BOOKS. 


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Evans  Wilson. 

This  new  novel  by  the  author  of  "St.  Elmo" 
is  a  powerful  story,  the  scenes  of  which 
take  place  soon  after  the  close  of  the  Civil 
War.  its  title  is  taken  from  the  scripture 
•'As  a  speckled  bird,  the  birds  round  about 
are  against  her."  "A  Speckled  Bird"  bears 
quite  as  many  marks  of  the  author's  genius 
and  fascinating  style,  as  does  "St.  Elmo," 
which,  thirty-six  years  after  issue,  still  holds 
its  popularity.    1 2mo,  cloth  bound,  $1.50. 

THE  OEOMPTONS.  By  Mary  J. 
Holmes. 

Nearly  four  million  coyies  of  Mrs.  Holmes' 
books  have  been  sold,  and  "The  Cromp- 
tons,"  one  of  her  best  stories,  will  be  wel- 
comed by  thousands  of  her  admirers.  In 
"The  Cromptons"  Mrs.  Holmes  loses  none 
of  her  exquisite  characterizations.  It  is  a 
story  of  absorbing  interest.  Cloth  bound, 
$1.00. 

ENOCH  STRONE.  By  E.  Phillips 
Oppenheim. 

"It  vividly  recalls  Mrs.  Ward's  'Sir  George 
Tressady'  and  Charles  Reade's  'Put  Your- 
self in  His  Place.'  It  is  a  strong  novel,  full 
of  surprises  in  plot,  excellent  m  style  and 
composition,  and  bound  to  become  a  popular 
success."  —  Indianapolis  Sentinel.  Cloth 
bound   $1.50. 

xii 


11 


DENSLOW'S  NIGHT  BEFORE 
CHRISTMAS.  The  old  classic  story, 
illustrated  by  W.  W.  Denslow. 

Here  is  the  best  Christmas  story  ever  told. 
The  riian  is  yet  to  be  born  who  can  write 
anything  to  supersede  what  has  made  St 
Nicholas  and  his  tiny  reindeer  living  and 
breathing   realities  to  millions  of  children 
throughout  the  world. 
Embellished,  as  it  is,  with  the  whimsical 
humor  of  Mr.  Denslow's  inimitable  draw- 
ings, produced  in  colors  by  the  most  beauti- 
ful printing,  it  will  eclipse  all  other  juvenile 
picture  books  of  the  year.    A  large  Quarto, 
handsomely  bound  In  illuminated  Board 
Cover,  $1.50. 

THE  PAGAN'S  CUP.  By  Fergus 
Hume.  Author  of  "  The  Mystery  of 
A  Hansom  Cab,"  "The  Rainbow 
Feather,"  etc. 

This  is  a  thrilling  detective  story,  in  v.;hich 
the  interest  and  mystery  is  well  sustained. 
The  characters  are  finely  drawn  and  many 
of  the  scenes  and  climaxes  are  very  impres- 
sive.   Cloth  bound,  $  1 .25. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH 
RIDERS.    By  Edward  Marshall. 

The  most  intensely  interesting  book  of 
modem  times.  It  is  devoted  entirely  to  this 
one  famous  regiment.  It  contains  a  com- 
plete roster  of  the  regiment,  and  is  pro- 
fusely illustrated  from  photographs  and 
drawings.  1 2mo,  Illustrated,  cloth  bound, 
$1.50. 

xiii 


1 


i 


i 


THE  KISS  OF  GLORY.  By  Grace 
Duffie  Boylan. 

A  narrative  of  the  life  of  Joseph,  the  son  of 
Jacob.       His    captivity,  release    and    love 

fife.  ,    ^    ^ 

Love  as  it  murmurs  in  the  heart  of  the  boy 
and  thunders  in  the  soul  of  the  man.  is  the 
keynote  of  this  unusual  rom.  co  of  the  i8th 
dynasty ;  and  Joseph,  the  niust  picturesque 
of  historical  characters,  has  been  chosen  by 
the  author  as  the  hero  of  the  story.  But 
while  the  thread  of  Bible  narrative  appears 
here  and  there,  connecting  the  thrilling 
series  of  adventures  with  the  dramatic  and 
beautiful  denouement,  the  novel  is  not  a  re- 
ligious one,  and  the  name  of  Deity  does  not 
appear  in  its  pages.  .    .       ,.  , 

This  novel,  which  is  as  simple  as  it  is  schol- 
arly, and  human  as  it  is  poetic,  will  touch  the 
chords  of  nature  everywhere,  and  appeal  to 
readers  of  every  taste  and  condition.  Illus- 
trations and  cover  design  by  J.  C  LEY- 
ENDECKER.    Cloth,  l2mo,  $1.50. 

LIONEL  ARDON.  By  Malcolm  Dear- 
born. 

A  brilliant  story  of  love  and  chivalry,  the 
nlot  of  which  is  laid  in  England,  beginning 
with  the  reign  of  Henry  VHI,  and  extend- 
injr  through  to  that  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  In 
it  IS  drawn  a  beautiful  picture  of  Lady  Jane 
Grey,  bringing  to  the  sympathy  and  admira- 
tion of  novel  readers  that  woman  of  purity 
and  exquisite  sensibilities.  A  thoroughly 
enioyable  story,  which  last  year  ranthrough 
the  McClure  syndicate  as  a  serial,  and 
created  great  interest  and  comment  among 
manyreiders.  1 2mo.  handsomely  bound 
In  cloth,  $1.50. 

XIV 


% 


) 


■   n  ' 

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THE  IKON  BRIGADE.  A  Story  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  By  Gen- 
eral Charles  King. 

In  choosing  the  subject  of  this  story  General 
K'ng  has  taken  one  of  the  most  gallant  and 
heroic  organizations  of  the  Civil  War.  and 
woven  around  it  many  intensely  interesting 
historic  scenes.  Sketches  of  Lmcoln  fetan- 
ton,  Grant,  Meade  and  other  prominent 
characters  of  the  time  lend  much  to  the 
holding  power  of  the  story.  Illustrations 
by  R.  F.  ZOQBAUM.  Cloth  bound,  $  1 .50. 

THE  FOOL.   By  Wm.   H.   Carson. 
Author  of  "  Hester  Blair." 

"The  Fool"  is  really  a  man  of  parts;  cul- 
tivated above  others  in  the  village  and 
possessed  of  legal  knowledge,  together  with 
considerable  means,  left  him  by  his  father, 
aU  of  which  he  contrives,  for  reasons  of  his 
own,  to  keep  from  knowledge  of  his  neigh- 
bors, and  reveals  only  to  his  dog,  a  canine 
of  supernormal  intelligence,  with  whom  he 
holds  long  conversations.  He  treats  the 
reader  to  some  quaint  and  interesting  bits 
of  philosophizing  on  life  and  its  ways.  Illus- 
trated, 12mo,  Cloth  bound,  $1.50. 

NORMAN  HOLT.  By  Gen.  Charles 
King. 

"In  'Norman  Holt,'  the  newest  historical 
romance  by  General  Chas.  King,  the  Amer- 
ican  public  has  been  given  his  strongest 
work.  If  he  had  done  nothing  but  this  one 
work  he  would  live  long  in  the  history  of 
American  letters."  —  N.  Y.  Press.  Cloth 
bound,  Illustrated,  $1.25. 

XV 


/ 


i 


A, 


■  '■  .  t 


V 


it 


THE  BOLE  OF  THE  UNCON- 
QUEEED.    By  Test  Dalton. 

A  thrilling  historical  narrative,  abounding 
with  life  and  action,  of  the  courtship  of 
Henry  of  Navarre  and  Marie  de  Medici. 
"One  has  only  to  open  the  book  anywhere 
and  glance  down  one  of  its  pages  in  order  tg 
agree  with  General  Lew  Wallace  that  the 
story  is  'animated,  carefully  arranged, 
dramatic,  and  unusually  interesting';  or 
with  James  Whitcomb  Riley  that  it  is  'an 
unusually  entertaining  work' ;  or  with  Booth 
Tarkington  that  it  is  'like  sitting  at  a  good 
old  fashioned  drama  where  all's  well  that 
ends  well.'  "—  T/te  Literary  Dii^est.  Cloth 
bound,  $1.50. 

NEW  ENGLAND  FOLKS.  By  Eu- 
gene W.  Presbrey. 

"A  sunshine  and  shadow  novel  which 
opens  a  vista  along  a  cool  country  lane  and 
brings  all  the  freshness  of  rustic  air  and  the 
breath  of  roadside  tlowers  to  the  delighted 
senses  of  the  reader."  —  Alhnny  Times- 
Union.  Cloth  bound,  $1.25;  paper 
covers,  50c. 

THE  KING  OF  HONEY  ISLAND. 

By  Maurice  Thompson,  Author  of 
"Alice  of  Old  Yincennes." 

"It  bears  quite  as  many  marks  of  the  genius 
of  the  author  as  does  *  Alice  of  Old  Vin- 
cennes,'  with  the  additional  charm, 
perhaps,  of  more  buoyancy  and  beauty  of 
thought  and  expression." — Topeka  Cafntal, 
Cloth  bound,  Illustrated,  $1.50. 

xvi 


y} 


EOOENTRIOITIES  OF  GENIUS. 
Memories  of  Famous  Men  and  Women 
of  the  Platform  and  Stage.  By 
Major  J.  B.  Pond. 

"  Every  consideration  bids  one  characterize 
this  as  a  remarkable  Uv^l:.  "  '-:a.-.  a  thousand 
charms  and  a  thousand  points  of  intercbL.  .t 
is  full  of  striking  gems  of  thought,  rare 
descriptions  of  men  and  places ;  biographicu 
bits  that  delight  one  by  their  variety,  and 
the  distinction  of  those  alluded  to.  Fro-n  a 
literary  view  it  is  as  interesting  as  Disraeli  s 
famous  -Curiosities  of  Literature.' " --/'////- 
adfiphi.i  Item.  8vo,  cloth  bound,  gilt 
top,  $3.50. 

TRUE  DETECTIVE  STORIES.    By 

Cleveland  Moffett. 

Containing  stories  from  the  Archives  of  the 
Pinkertons.  Thrilling  accounts  of  The 
Northampton  Bank  Robbery,  The  Susque- 
hanna Express  Robbery,  The  Pollock  Dia- 
mond Robber>',  The  Rock  Island  Express. 
The  Destruction  of  the  Renos,  and  The 
American  Exchange  Bank  Robbery.  16mo, 
cloth  bound,  75c. 

UNDER  A  LUCKY  STAR.  By  Char- 
lotte Abell  Walker. 

Tells  what  occupation  to  adopt  and  what 
line  of  life  to  follow,  what  associates  and 
partners  to  choose,  how  to  recognize  the 
possibilities  and  limitations  of  our  friends 
and  ourselves,  suggestions  on  marriage  and 
government  of  children,  being  mainly  culled 
from  the  minds  of  ancient  and  modern  phi- 
losophers. Illustrated,  cloth  bound,  $  1 .50. 
xvii 


V 

\ 


'.U 


THE  WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A 
MAID.    By  Frances  Gordon  Fane. 

"A  clever,  well-written  story,  full  of  love 
and  pathos,  aud  thrilling  with  dramatic 
crises.  Each  step  of  the  domestic  tragedy 
is  skilfully  portrayed,  "ntil  the  final  climax 
is  '•»»ached.  Its  aucnor  has  made  it  a  power- 
ful, telling  story  to  read."— A^.  V.  World. 
"  The  author's  ability  as  a  story  writer  is 
unquestioned.  The  book  is  thoroughly  read- 
able."— Indianapolis  ScnlineL 
12nio,  cicth  bound,  $1.50. 

THE  FUNNY  SIDE  OF  POLITICS. 
By  George  S.  Hilton. 

Nothing  has  ever  been  written  like  this 
book.  It  gives  many  amusing  stories  told 
in  the  House  and  Senate  in  Washington. 
The  book  is  replete  with  anecdotes  of  many 
living  politicians.  Their  names  are  given, 
as  well  as  the  occasions  which  called  forth 
the  stories.     12ino,  cloth  bound,  $1.25. 

JOHN  WINSLOW.  By  Henry  D. 
Northrup. 

*♦  Country  life  at  its  best  is  admirably 
treated,  and  there  is  a  wealth  of  incident 
and  reminiscence,  humorous  aud  pathetic, 
throughout  the  book." — Louis7>ille  Co  u  tier - 
Journal.  Cloth  bound,  Illustrated,  $1.50. 

OLD  JED  PROUTY.  By  Richard 
Golden  and  Mary  E.  Francis. 

"A  novel  that  is  worthy  to  become  a  New 
England  classic,  and  to  cause  the  name  of 
*  Old  Jed '  to  be  as  widely  known  in  the 
book-loving  world  as  it  is  on  the  stage."— 
N.Y.  Journal.  Cloth  bound,  $1.50. 
xviii 


fs 


! 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN 
KETTLE.    By  Outliffe  Hyne. 

l2nio,  cloth  bound,  illustrated,  $1.50. 

A  MASTER  OF  FORTUNE.    Being 
«       Further  Adventures  of  "Captain 
Kettle."    By  Cutliffe  Hyne. 

"  Nobody  who  has  followed  the  gallant 
sailor  —  diminutive,  but  oh,  my!  —  in  his 
previous  adventures  around  the  earth,  is  go- 
ing to  miss  this  red-hot  volume  of  marvelous 
exploits."— A^.  v.  World. 
"It  has  the  dash  and  tinge  of  reality  that 
makes  you  feel  as  if  you  were  in  the  midst 
of  it  oXV— Detroit  Free  Press. 
12mo,  cloth  bound,  illustrated,  $1.50. 

JOSH  BILLINGS'  "OLD  FARMER'S 
ALLMINAX." 

A  reproduction  ot  the  Famous  Comic  All- 
minax  which  ran  from  1870  to  1880.  Millions 
of  copies  were  sold,  and  for  ten  years  it  was 
the  most  popular  of  all  comic  books.  The  con- 
tinuous demand  since  it  has  been  out  of  print 
justi6es  the  present  unique  reproduction. 
Cloth  bound.  Profusely  Illustrated,  $1.50. 

THE  PERVERTS.  By  W.  L.  Howard. 

This  remarkable  work  is  a  romance  in  which 
are  graphically  described  the  many  morbid 
mental  conditions  existing  in  society  to-day, 
•'The  style  is  clear,  brisk  and  straightfor- 
ward. The  situations  are  in  many  instances 
dramatic,  particularly  noticeable  in  the  final 
climax  which  brings  the  story  to  an  abrupt 
and  astonishing  c\o&q."  —  All>efi.,v  Times' 
Union.  Cloth  bound,  $  1 .5f. 
xix 


■iiMiii 


A   SLEEPING    MEMORY.    By  E. 

Phillips  Oppenheim.  Author  of 
"Enoch  Strone,"  etc. 

This  story  might  be  taken  as  a  plea  for  the 
feasibility  of  the  doctrine  of  reincarnation, 
or  a  succession  of  totally  different  lives  here 
on  earth.  In  the  present  widespread  taste 
for  speculative  thought,  along  the  lines  that 
awaken  wonder,  it  will  cause  much  discus- 
sion. Its  sustainod  interest  from  start  to 
finish  is  intense.    Cloth  bound,  $1.50. 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  SWORD.  A 
Romance  of  1796.  By  Leo  Ditrich- 
stein. 

"The  scenes  and  characters  of  this  stirring 
period  have  afforded  fruitful  themes  for 
novelists  and  dramatists  of  a  century ;  but 
few  writers  have  presented  its  romantic 
features  and  its  critical  situations  more 
vividly  or  more  dramatically  than  they  are 
p*-esentedinthis  story."— Bookseller,  News- 
dealer and  Stationer.  12mo,  cloth  bound, 
gilt  top.  Illustrated,  $1.50. 

THE  DAY  OF  PROSPERITY.  A 
Vision  of  the  Century  to  Come.  By 
Paul  Devinne. 

A  vivid,  startling  and  original  picture  of  a 
reconstructed  world,  a  novel  with  an  ingen- 
ious plot,  and  a  sparkling  and  fantastic  story 
of  life  in  the  year  2000.  A  solution  of  to- 
day's most  mooted  problems;  differing  from 
Bellamy  and  kindred  thinkers  though  fol- 
lowing somewhat  similar  lines.  A  very 
engrossing  novel,  with  humanly  sympathetic 
characters.    Cloth  bound,  $1.50. 

XX 


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